Shattered

The candles flicker fitfully on either side as one writes this laboriously in longhand. It gives one a new appreciation for all those who gave their eyesight in small garrets, to bring us what sometimes went on to be great works of literary merit. To be honest one will not be subjecting you to anything that meretricious. This is more a dose of unpleasant reality about 24/7 relationships.

Today was hot. It was even hotter than yesterday. So bad in fact that we decided to go out. For the record the IGA at North Lakes has the best cooling in North Brisbane. And it stocks NZ treaties, so the fridge is now filled with assorted biscuits. Which will no doubt be doled out like the boy did his manners. For one’s own good of course as they are laden with soy  L

We were happily mooching around after a late lunch, when we happened to glance up at the skylights. Overhead the sky had turned into a roiling mass of dark petrol green clouds that foreshadow hail. Making a run for it, we kept just ahead of the storm and as we hit our garage the skies opened. Big fat drops of rain pelted down and started to increase in momentum.

Retreating indoors He made the interesting threats and promises that constitute foreplay in a BDSM relationship. Leaving Him in the icebox we like to call a bedroom, one ventured into the outer waiting room of hell one calls a kitchen to make dinner. Dancing back to the bedroom bearing food, with visions of a movie followed by mayhem, one parted the curtain. There He was... snuggled up with his beloved doona. Sound asleep*.

That was the moment our little home, along with 55 000 others, lost power. So here one is alone, in the dark, aided by candles writing to you. Might even do a little candle lit folding after this....

*See the reality of working a graveyard shift, is that on the days off your body doesn’t understand that 6.30pm is too early to go to bed. Just as 3.00am is too early to wake up L