Mr Nielson, better known as Sid and I are practicing being alone.
The children, bless their cotton picking socks have flown the coop.
They are off on exciting travels of their very own, whilst Sid and I 'tend the crops'! It's funny how quickly it happens. One moment you are checking their homework ( if they're lucky) and the next, you are checking them onto a flight somewhere too far for comfort. It's that blink of an eye thing that seems to be happening more often then ever now.
I find it very disconcerting.
This evening Mr Nielson better known as Sid, made a delicious supper.
That man is a very neat cook. The same cannot be said of his wife, cest moi who is known and it must be said, loved for her messiness. Mr Nielson has often thanked me for the lessons of patience and tolerance that I have bestowed upon him by testing these qualities daily! The groaning heap of books next to my bed is a case in point. Mr Nielson has grown used to the sight of my laden bedside table in contrast to the orderly expanse that is his.
As for my car, why Mr Nielson has eliminated this bother by regularly seeing to it's cleaning himself. Many a missing shoe or important document has been found in this manner!
Open Mr Nielson's cupboard doors and you will behold the colour coded, seasonally ordered joy of the modern man's wardrobe. My own unruly holding space is filled with sale items ( no one else wanted them!) and a large contingency of clothing bought in the hope of impending weight loss! Mr Neilson solves this dilemma by giving my unworn clothes to passing vagrants who have learnt to ring our door bell in the sure knowledge that something good will come of it. But that is another story.
In the meantime, whilst Mr Nielson attends to last minute matters in his office I am upstairs preparing the boudoir. My husband is a most romantic man. All the accoutrement of romance are at my disposal. He ensures that a full supply of candles and flowers are always at the ready. Music too. ( Not to mention lovely lingerie!) I feel Mr Nielson better known as Sid should write a book to help other husbands.
Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good...
(PS: If you enlarge the photo (don't) there is a very strange person eyeing us from his/her(?) towel. This is no-one we know!)