For the third night in a row

Chef is playing soccer or some such on the x-box while I trawl through other people’s blogs, online real estate agents and architecture websites.

This can only mean one thing. he’s desperate for sex while I live vicariously through other people’s lives, dreaming of a reality that won’t be happening any time soon particularly if the dream’s budget is ever considered.

Chef came out a said a few weeks back that we would build a house one day. This knocked me off my perch as I have always wanted to build our own home and even have house plans I drew up when I was about 15.

I thought he must have forgotten about this until, while informing me there would be a cellar, media room, cool room, fuck-off sized pantry (he is a chef) and dumb waiter (can you tell one of our favourite shows of all time is This Old House and the giggling fun we had at realising that no, it wasn’t from 1985, it was from 2003 and MY GOD Americans like big housing and ducted heating) that he said, “don’t worry poppet, you will still be able to have a sunken living room”.

Thank GOD because I was beginning to think my dreams of living in a house like something of Bold and the Beautiful circa 1990 would never be realised.