The Bump

Today started off with a bump.
Got a letter last night from British Gas, forwarded from London, saying that because they'd estimated our bills for years, we now owed them a shedload of money, thankyouverymuch.
Then I made the mistake of getting on the Nazi Scales. Suffice it to say that yep, the couple of days away have had a head-kicking effect. Don't care though - the days were fabulous, and I know I can get things back on track.
Devised a budget today by which to get us by on a month-by-month basis, which was sobering, though not of course that terrifying.

I guess on the whole, today was a day for coming down to Earth with a bit of a bump. On the other hand, got back on with unpacking my office, set up the Bose, discovered I can only use it on minimal settings without shaking the building to bits, which is kinda fun, in a Crocodile Dundee, "that's not a hi-fi...THIS is a hi-fi" way. And it's got that feeling to it when you come back from a truly, truly kick-ass holiday - Mannnnn that was good, but it's great to be back in our own space and time, and be moving forward with the reality of life.

So - not so much a bump as a pat on the ass, I guess. Have tried to keep my food intake light and mainly fruit-based today, with some beautiful porky protein thrown in. But other than the box-work, have done nothing energetic to speak of today.

Oh yeah, not for nothing, but this has also been a feature of today - people occasionally ask d and I about the nature of our relationship. We argue ridiculously rarely, but we disagree about plenty of things, I'd say. She's a general optimist and a political pessimist, I'm exactly the opposite. She's got a level of faith, me, notsomuch. She's generally quite polite and respectful of others, whereas I'm basically a brat. But we've always had a resonance, built through talking over a long distance.

Today, we happened to be watching a TV show where rich people dilly-dally and choose between six houses to move to. It was weird, but we had almost exactly the same reactions to practicaly everything to do with living-spaces.
"Ach - nasty beams!"
"Ick - horrible horrible tiles..."
"Hate you, hate you, hate you, you rich, poncey fucks..."

And seconds ago, we had a bizarrely resonant moment. Watching Miami Ink, a reality show based in a tattoo parlour (for the very first time, I should add), we both watched a Navy guy get a ship tattooed on his back, with a mermaid lolling in the foreground. As one, we piped up -
"Mermaid needs a nipple, dude!"

That, ladies and gentlemen is emotional and pedantic synchonicity, and that's the kind of thing that seven years of marriage are made of. Well, that and the fact that d's just noticed a moulding has popped off, and trudged out to get the toolkit, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't know a moulding if it hit me in the face, and wouldn't have the first idea how to pop one back on if my life depended on it...

Ahhh synchronicity is sweet...