I've yet to decide whether or not I like Saturdays. I bundled my washing into the machine, set it off and ate a bag of crisps. I watched Wales play Australia in the rugby (they lost). I wrote a bit of my book (but nowhere near enough to land me in the territory of 'productive') and I put my shoes on, hoping to go for a walk. Then I stood there with the front door open, watching the rain bounce off the car and splash into the puddles and I didn't really feel like it. Plus, my raincoat was in the boot.
What do people who 'live for the weekend' do on Saturdays? Some of them must be sociable enough for a Friday night out and a painful Saturday morning. What else is there to do? Shopping? IKEA? Football? Planning a holiday? It's a mystery to me. I've never even been to an IKEA. Maybe I'm missing out on some utopian life-changing world of wonder.
"You've never been to an IKEA?" said the last person I said that to, some time ago. I repeated it carefully, trying to scroll back through my memory to see if a trip to the Swedish Meatball Warehouse could possibly have evaded me. Why would I have been to an IKEA? I don't have any furniture to replace and even if I did I'm not sure I'd want it to look exactly like everyone else's.
So, I stayed home today, listening to the rain. Even the Intrepids were off getting their flu jabs and then disappearing into town to pick up something or other.
One weird thing did happen though. A friend of mine phoned me up asking for relationship advice. It's happened before, this. I ought to be the last person on the list. He was emotional, a bit embarrassed and petrified of losing the love of his life. I'm so fed up of beating around the bush these days, I just thought honesty would be the quickest way to get through - so I told him to grow up and do the right thing - although I used more words than that. Diplomacy is tiring and I was in a no nonsense sort of mood.
The sky was greyer than a Zuckerberg t-shirt. I watched the clouds as they raced overhead, pendulous with more heavy rain. My friend had said that 'being in a relationship' was everything. I absolutely disagreed, pointing out that you kind of have to know who you are first before you can really make it work. How can you expect someone else to be comfortable with who you are, if you don't even know, yourself?
I spent a little time trying to work out how a relationship was like an engine. The fuel is the... no wait, the operators need... and the oil... well, I couldn't really fathom it out, though I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere. Then I started to wonder what on earth I should know about this stuff? It's a mystery why he called me, of all people. In NASA terms, I've failed the test so many times they've sent me to the observatory to watch the stars while everyone else tries on a space-suit. I shuffled to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I really need to get out more, I thought to myself.
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