The Happy Couple

Here's a tip:
If your wife is really really sick and coughing up lungs, and hasn't read your blog about asking her if it's OK to wake up at 6AM and go walking on a day you're actually working from home and don't in fact have to get up until gone 8...

DON'T.

Just Don't, in any way shape or form wake her up at 6, get out, walk five miles and then get a tube back to your home, and grab breakfast at a local cafe, and not call her. Especially when she thinks you've gone walking and then gone into your office, and is calling you there fairly frantically, wondering if you're lying in a gutter somewhere, bleeding...

S'just...SUCH a bad idea.

Naturally, this is advice I pass on notsomuch as a master of emotional and couples therapy, but as a dumb fuck who woke up his wife at 6AM, walked five miles, got a tube back home, grabbed breakfast at a local cafe, and forgot to call d, because last night, she said she'd read my blog.

Turned out it was the day before's blog, rather than yesterday's. But I thought she knew the plan and was good with it, so when she called at about 11, going "Where the Hell are you?" and I said "Oh, I was back at Selmo's Cafe by 8.30 baby,"...erm...it was an interesting moment.

Very little else to tell you about today - sat here on my arse all day, doing the work I was worried about getting done yesterday. There's a bike in my short-term future of course.

"Damn straight there is," muttered d, "I'm gonna put thumb-tacks on your couch if you don't bike after getting me up at six o'clock when you were working at home, ya git!"

But even if d wasn't so...erm...chronically enthusiastic about seeing me sweat and suffer tonight, I'd be doing it anyway - feels good to be getting back to a routine of pain and suffering, and hopefully, it'll be worthwhile on Tuesday.

And yes, of course I feel bad about this morning...
But here's the evil thing.
You remember the whole "Woe is me, I'm an addict" schtick?
You remember the Facebook friend of mine who said she was now addicted to losing weight?
Did I ever mention that addiction is fundamentally fucking selfish? Tell you what, do an experiment - ask a junkie in need of a fix what happens to their conscience? Or a drying-out drunk whether they feel like having a touchy-feely moment?

I didn't know this was there till writing this entry, but while the real me, the civilised, thinking me knows it did a moderately accidental but still thoughtless thing this morning. But the whisper - that insidious little git of a whisper - is saying "Yeah, but that's probably an extra 500 calories today, burn baby, burn baby, burn burn buuuuuuuurn.

So now what? Addicted to Disappearing? Can someone else roll my eyes for me, I'm kinda busy smacking myself upside the head.

Oh wait...honey c'mere, I need a hand while I'm rolling my eyes...