I had half a bottle of wine last night and three large, Indian beers. I went to bed at a little after midnight and turned off the television as soon as I heard my own snoring.
I woke up two hours ago. After spending the first ten minutes of the day on the toilet, I came downstairs and switched on the computer. I poured a glass of water while it was starting up. I’ve spent those two hours looking at the internet. The only interruptions have been to put cartoons on for my three-year-old boy and to get more water and make a bacon sandwich. My boy wanted some cereal too, so I’ve given him that. He likes to eat it dry, without milk, which is okay with me as there’s less chance of any mess and I want him to be happy and quiet.
I’ve read the bits of news I want to already. I’ve looked at some pornography. It seems skinny Eastern European women being fucked on a sofa were the ticket today. I read through some film reviews and read an interview with Clive Owen. I checked some football results. My team lost and it seems unlikely they’ll get promotion now. I’m a little worried about how much this doesn’t bother me.
I’m making a second bacon sandwich now. When I’ve eaten it, I’ll make some coffee and a sandwich for my wife. I’ll take it to her in bed and she’ll wake up – not wanting to – but will see me holding the sandwich and coffee and say something like ‘oh, thank you sweetie.’ I’ll tell her the kids are downstairs and leave her to it. At some point in the day I’ll mention how early I got up, and how I fed the kids and brought her breakfast in bed, in order to get something in return. I might say it seriously, to get a household chore done, or I might make it a joke and request a sexual act be performed on me. I might do both these things.
I could type more, but my second bacon sandwich is ready now. While I eat it, I’ll post this on my blog called Ruksak. Perhaps you’ll read it.
