A day in the life of a Sunday

I like Sundays but it has that slight taint of knowing you have to go back to work the next day. And as it happened I worked anyway as a bunch of stuff landed while I was off sick and I needed to clear some of it away.

There's this seeming trend of first-time published authors bragging in their dust jackets about how they now get to wear pyjamas to work. Since I was working at home then I did the same! And they're right, it is as awesome as they said it would be. Jammy, talented cock-spanks.

As I worked I could hear the rest of the family having a normal Sunday. Craft, running around, pottering. Still as far as working went it was pretty sweet to be in max. comfort with a heater going and decorative cats lolling in the Autumnal sun.

Later theBoy had a play date with a friend from day care. They ran back-and-forth between the lounge room and the bedroom, starting numerous activities and indulging in a number of costume changes. At one point a mini-Spiderman and a like-sized Batman could be seen playing together by the light blue play table that sits over the coffee table liberated from uni all those years ago.

I finished work in time to have a slow-mo light sabre fight with the boys in our narrow corridor, complete with impersonations of the crackle of clashing "blades". They had Chinglish 'fighting glowsticks' from Go-Lo. I had a cardboard tube. They won.

Also I set myself a mission. It took three sessions in total but all up I did an hour on the TPC, the death-dealing Octonaut (1) on loan from CERN; the organisation currently headed by the mysterious yet brainy beauty Dr. Cassovitch whose bewitching presence has set many a nerd heart a flutter. As a result of my hour-in-totes on the TPC my arse and thighs are pleasantly achey. I try and cycle more on weekend days to make up for half-hearted rides during the working week. That and as far as exercise goes, like working at home was, it's pretty sweet. I had the heater on in the shed as I rode and all the while I was riding I was watching Real Time on my tablet. There are worse ways to get fitter.

So I did some work and some play and now I'm blogging from the couch bed.

I'm a fucking mars bar (drops mic.)

Some lesser notes...

theBoy came into my just after seven am. I didn't have the heart to turn him away. So he snuggled in next to me and we told stories. If you're going to be woken early on a Sunday that's a nice thing to wake up for.

I've been taking bacteria capsules to help my motility. They've increased frequency and power of my solid-state emissions. Only when I do go it's fucking painful just before and well after. Today's was ... excessive and despite its volume did not grant me the sought-after PAG. I was on session one on the TPC by 9.30 am because of it as riding the bike seems to help dial back post-poo pain.

(1) Okay, it's an exercise bike. I just wanted the chance to write death-dealing Octonaut. Speaking of which, why is the octonaut with the Panzer tank commander's hat the only one wearing a full set of fucking clothes?! His fully clothed body implies the others are tackle or fish box out... (1a)

(1a) I have no idea if the lady-equiv. of tackle is a fish box but you have to admit fish box is both insulting and funny.