A Quiet Week Ending with Sausages and Eggs

Hangover Central for my roomies today, with Scarydancer and Lilsister only rising to meet the 1pm sun and to argue about a bag of sausages.  I bought them the sausages yesterday so they would have something to eat with their hangovers (it being Scarydancer’s birthday do at the pub last night) and usually Scarydancer puts some sausages into a bag for eating and the rest into a special bag  in the freezer, for later consumption.  This was not done yesterday because

1. Lilsister hates touching raw meat and is excessively lazy and

2. Because Scarydancer had the gall to be at work all day.

Cue argument this afternoon breakfastime as the romantic couple queried each other in loud voices as to why the sausages had not been separated.  I ended up cooking them eggs and the meat is to be saved for their dinner.

Needless to say I have left the abode with its headache tablets, groans and the black eyes of my sister who did not bother to remove her makeup last night, to hide at Mammy’s house where I am hoping for a Sunday feed.  As I drove past the tram stop to get here I THINK I saw Mr Bright as there was a grey haired individual running by but his hair was overly grey and he was wearing navy – not the same vision I think.  In anycase, if I had stared any longer I would have crashed the car so I kept going and decided to myself that it was not he.

Apart from that little ray of hope precious little else has occurred this week, I worked, sighed, tried to eat better, partially failed (which infers partial success?) and did more walking exercise than normal, mainly due to my flabbiness and my wanting to see Mr Bright again (whatever motivates you I suppose).  The only other good thing is that I found my easter egg, which I had mislaid and secretly fretted about being eaten by Scarydancer – no, I had put it in a box for some reason, and covered it up.  Thankfully it survived intact, and I look forward to eating small bits of it in due course, as I am trying to be good.

Speaking Easter-related times, with Scarydancer, upon opening up ONE of his Easter Eggs, decided that the best way to get to the chocolate inside, was to headbutt the egg, and with great force.  The deed done, a cracking sound was heard, and bits of egg flew everywhere in the living room, leaving Scarydancer confused and dazed looking, with only the tiniest sliver of chocolate remaining in his hand, the rest being elsewhere in the apartment.  I think he underestimated the size and force of his head, but the funniest aspect of the incident to me was the fact that he looked totally bemused that his head actually managed to crack the entire egg into a thousand splintered pieces.  Who needs telly when there is comedy gold like this on display?


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