Given yesterday's fall into the shaft of despair, I awarded myself a very, very slow day today. Got up at 11am, had a leisurely shower and ate cereal for breakfast. I don't usually like cereal but like the name 'Trim Flakes', it should be the name of a suave American TV doctor or detective, I think. The name did nothing to impart flavour to the cereal, but I felt smug that I had eaten a more healthy breakfast than half a box of French Fancies or a bowl of home fried chips.
I retreated to the sofa, browsing the tv and internet simultaneously, and soothed myself with a liberal dose of QVC, which I haven't done since my darkest days of depression years ago. Dawn Bibby is still there with her mumsy persona flogging bits of coloured paper for 'crafting' as opposed to 'paper craft'. There was an hour of L'occitan bubble baths and stuff. They have a lovely shop in Solihul, populated by the affluent and fashionable (I bought something from there once, a long time ago), it seemed incongruous that these £20 body lotions were being flogged to the QVC audience of pensioners and agoraphobics. Worst of all is the QVC fashion, deeply unflattering even on the size 8 models, and hideously overpriced. "This is trendy", said the presenter, gulping on her deceitful tongue "Loving the pink".
It did the job though, so that by the time Nina got home from her half day at work, I was relaxed enough to hear about her having been approached by a stranger who pestered her and then offered her £200 to go to his house. A passing Police car pulled up, so no harm done, and maybe none intended. Scary though. I wish we didn't live in a city. We do though, and either way, life is full of risks, real and imagined. Holly also had a story today. she had been chauffeured in the Mayors car. Nick was amusingly jealous. The tales made for a happy family teatime, but I was distant and crotchety having tried to get some housework done. It sapped all of my energy within half an hour, and by the time I served up tea, my head was swimming. Nick learned his lesson from yesterday and didn't dare ask for bread or make comment on the quorn burgers (which were virtually indistinguishable from chicken in my opinion).
I had been snappish with Nick and felt bad about it. When I came to bed, I tried to explain, but he was in the mood to make jokes and try to make me laugh. I said that I thought we were falling apart as a couple, which I have felt for a little while. His perspective, as it turns out is very far from my own, so I've been reading things into his behaviour which aren't there. I'm a fool, and he's such a good man. I let him sleep while I stayed up for a while, mourning the loss of the years when we would kiss each other goodbye every morning, and the times when I would bring him elaborately constructed sandwiches at lunchtime for no reason other than we loved and missed each other even during ordinary working days. Selfishly, I suppose I feel insecure and want a little romance. I don't know what Nick wants from me as he talks almost exclusively about work. He has never been demanding though, so perhaps he is content, or would be if I fed him on bread and butter and meat.
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