All Good

Saturdays are full of good intentions.

“First. I’m gonna have Breakfast. Black coffee and sautéed mushies on toast. Sitting down, in Peace; no rush. Then I’ll cut the grass, finish organising my wardrobe, rearrange the furniture in the hobby room and catch up on some reading. Oh, and run a half marathon.”

“Pah.” Doubtfully, my inner pessimist (I prefer calling her Ms Realistic) let out an aspirated exhalation.

Instead I said: “Don’t forget that we’re going out to That Party tonight. And that my roots are showing, again.” (Ms Realistic added “do the weekly shop” but I didn’t pay her any attention.)

At this point, Leon announced the beginning of the day by calling out “papá bye-bye” very loudly. It’s code for “Could you guys scramble out of bed and give me my bottle?! Please.” So we did.

And with that, Saturday was on The Roll.


Husbands are full of good intentions.

The grass is still long and the hobby room still un-rearranged. But breakfast in the garden was sunny, the Party was epic, and my hair is a uniform shade of brown.

Today’s Monday. And Mondays, too, are full of good intentions.

Time for some Leon-snuggles.

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