I took the day off today.
I pretend I do this often, at least once a week, but when I have a proper one off I realise the other “days off” were just pretend days off.
Essentially what happened was I gave up fighting.
Hubby had the day off and I know he says he Leaves Me Alone To Work but that’s crap, really.
I gave up the idea of trying to work when he was home all day, demanding my attention and being annoying and annoyed when he doesn’t get it.
We were given some vouchers for Christmas for some massages. They are due to expire tomorrow. I gave up trying to work out when I was going to find the time to use my one, and gave up trying to coordinate the children being in some form of care or another so I could go.
I was – am – highly stressed, my brain not functioning to full capacity, so I gave up trying to fight it.
I just gave it all up and took the day off … with my hubby, and just looked forward to enjoying his company.
We looked at some houses we might like to buy but probably can’t afford, and pretended to be all Domestic Godessy in a kitchen I covet but would probably be horrified to have someone like me utilising it.
We had a Bento Box for lunch, followed by coffee, followed by a last minute, freaked out and panicked remembering we were all out of coffee beans and grinds for coffee at home … argh!
We set off for our massage, courtesy of Christmas, at a Thai massage place, where we had adjoining ‘rooms’ separated by a flimsy curtain that we kept opening and chatting to each other. When out respective massage therapists left the ‘rooms’ and started speaking Korean (yes, in a Thai massage place) I translated for him, telling him they were saying “I take the fat pudding man, you do the squishy white lady” and reminded him of the episode of The Simpsons where Homer indulges in a bit of a Thai massage himself…
We laugh. A lot.
Overhead the speakers are piping Summer Hits ’67 and Roy Orbison, Richie Vallens and fellow musical artistes sooth our minds as we relax, our bodies being kneaded, pummelled and stretched at various intervals.
It was fabulous.
Home was via primary school to collect Middlest Child, where we like to kill about 45 minutes before having to go and collect Littlest Child … inevitably, it rained and we found ourselves with 55 minutes to kill, no umbrella and no warm clothing.
Iced coffee it was, Littlest Child collected, home and he knabbed the shower knowing full well I had to leave almost immediately to take Godzilla to basketball training.
And so I did, smelling like Thai massage parlour and closely resembling Bridget Jones after her road trip in a convertible for a mini break with Hugh Grant …
My day off … typical, yet fabulous!
I really must do that more often …