A smilingly slow suburban weekend.

Yesterday at 1pm I drove Mat and a rather phlegmatic Kili to the airport for their four weeks of sun and family in Hungary and Croatia. Airport goodbyes suck, and we managed it in record time, and I was surprised at how hollow I felt, driving away.

Thursday night had been further proof that we are utterly back in business. I felt at home, and completely safe and happy.

Last night I went to Kym's and cooked some carbonara (which turned out exceptionally well) and we watched a Bon Jovi doco (sigh) and chatted. I drove squinty eyed home, and dozed in front of the telly until a text arrived just after 11: you are all i think of. Then I went to bed and slept, my head on his pillow.

This morning when I woke at 5, I couldn't quite believe it was the weekend and I didn't have to work! My heart was also a little confused in the pre dawn darkness: if it's the weekend then where is Mat?
Richard and I huddled together while I had coffee and breakfast, then did round the house things until I went to my first Body Pump class in ages. It totally wiped me out but I feel better than ever.

At home I relaxed. Like real people do.

I read Norman Davies' history of Europe in the sunshine, until I felt the nods coming on, and then I lay on the couch, the afternoon sun on my face and dozed some more. I watched an episode of a doco about Ancient Greece, narrated by Liam Neeson. My brain feels lubricated and content.

And of course dinner tonight is in Freo, with Gary and Jo, and probably Max and perhaps one of Gary's PhD students.

Tomorrow John Forest National Park, to do the loop B and I never completed, and then the week begins, and the quiet empty house will not be so mocking anymore.