… day three.

Captains log. Stardate. Eh… two zero one nine oh seven oh six? AD… or is CE now? Things progress. I’ve been thinking of a good reason, so when my wife inevitably asks, on her return to our domicile on the morrow…

‘Jo… why is there a massive grappling mat in the lounge?’

 

… I will have a good answer. So far it’s not going well… because… some impulse purchases are more difficult to justify than others. Especially those with expansive square meterage.

I have a suspicion she will object to it living here permanently, which is a pity, because this afternoon it caught the winter sun perfectly and it was a great place to sprawl out on and build lego. Yes. I am basically a regressive man-child. Also when I got tired of playing with blocks it was a good place to read, drink apple cider and then (perhaps inevitably after all that excitement) nap.

I totally understand the allure of Japanese Tatami mats now.

 

img_3815.jpg

Damn. Foiled. Already. bb stands for bloody basset. Which is what he is and so we refer to him as such. I sent my wife a picture of him, post walk, passed out on the couch. And her astute CPA gaze noticed an anomalous background effect. Curse my foolishness.

7 thoughts on “… day three.

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