I worked damn hard at the Scout Hall Work Party this afternoon. I’ll be honest, it was pretty much all work and no party, so I’m not sure who came up with the name, but still. The mood was good and the place looks spick and span once again. Well done, all.
I came home exhausted, having waved my big chopper around for three hours. All I wanted this evening was a beer, a burger and a bath. And (in my mind, at least), I fully deserved all three.
The beer will come from the beer fridge, its temperature set slightly below the norm for general refrigeration purposes. Nice and icy. The burger will be provided by Tiger’s Milk via UberEats. Bacon will be involved.
That just leaves the bath. We’re not meant to bath in Cape Town. We still don’t have a lot of water to play with. Or bath in. But I got our rates bill this morning, and we’re still using just 55 litres per person per day. We’ve earned a bath for dad; his first in over three years.
Guys… I’m in a bath.
Which is why this is being typed on a steamy screen, with wrinkled fingers. A candle as my only light source (thanks, Mrs 6000), and Ólafur Arnalds on the Bluetooth speaker. The acoustics in here are fantastic.
I can feel the tension easing from my muscles (still not going to be able to walk tomorrow though). This was a great idea.
And hey, if you came here was that post, don’t fret: it’s coming. Already ¾ written in my head. I think it’s a good one. Soon, ok?