Saturday Morning

We were awake latish. Saturday morning, that's what they are fore, huh. Awake in our cave. Protected. Snug. Sam reads his RS IT feed, I roll over and roll over and roll over again, luxuriating, not restless. Lying up against him is nice, it is a cold morning and he is nice and warm. It is comfortable, it is nourishing, it is soul pampering. I’m am naturally hot so I can only cuddle in the winter.

"You sure can sleep," says Sam.

"I know, isn't it lovely."

It is cold when slide my arms out from under the bedclothes, so I am in no hurry to leave my cocoon.

We were finally up at 10.15. It was still cold. I shivered by the side of the bed as I look for my track pants. I don’t mind really, it is bracing, awakening, we don’t always have to be cosseted in perfect warmth. A blast of cool makes us feel alive.

I made porridge. Comfort food, warm us up. Bubble, bubble in the saucepan. Gloop, gloop, gloop. Is this what countries lived on during the hard times? In poverty? Women with aprons and their hair in scarves? Her name would be Suzi and she'd slide her used tissues up her sleeve. Sam stole sultanas from my muesli until I complained that I would only be eating rolled oats for my first week back at work. Oats and an ironed shirt heading out into peak hour traffic. Kill me now! So, I stole more sultanas from Shane's muesli. I added bananas and maple syrup. I brewed strong coffee.

We sat at the coffee table, on the floor, as the morning drifted. I read my blog. Sam watched China’s Got Talent, after he’d finished reading his RS feed of nerd news, on his iPad3 exclaiming all the time how lovely the screen is.

It is the usual slow Saturday, the usual relaxed weekend. I love it like that. I love that togetherness just naturally.

There is a chill in the air, my feet are cold.

Sometimes I wonder if I am too boring? I can be very homey. But that is life, now isn’t it, clinging together and finding love and happiness during the boring bits, as well as the other bits. Let’s face it, life is made up of boring bits, interspersed with excitement.

Suddenly, it was past midday. And our stomachs began to grumble. I was happy, though, going out to find food was the last thing I wanted to do. It was a slow Saturday and I was liking it that way. 

It's cold, suddenly the summer has finished. I wonder if it will make another return, like it seems to have a few times already this summer. But, I guess by March, it is only expected that it is going to get cold.

It must be time to order firewood. I turned on the central heating for the first time since last winter, that heating that has been running on a wing and a prayer for years. It didn’t come on. Shit!

We ate Korean in Lygon Street.

We went to the Queer Film Festival and watched Kinky Sex with David. A doco all about International Mr Leather. Sam said afterwards it was rubbish, in his very dismissive tone, no grey are, that he has. 

"What the hell was that all about?" he asked, as we crossed in the busy traffic in Flinders Street. Hands in the air. "Rubbish!"