When Alex announced a couple of days ago that her class was going on a three-day team building session, my first thought was oh, my! Speedy and I would have the house to ourselves. And my mind raced although I am not sure if I did it in the context of daydreaming or getting attacked by a nightmare while awake. Because the thought that followed was this: Friday, Alex would be coming home from the team building and Sam would be home from the dorm. And I was already practicing how to couch the words when I tell them that they’re going to a have a baby sister — or brother. Because that seemed to be the only logical conclusion that could result from Speedy and I having the house to ourselves for three days!
And the images that came to my head after that came fast and furious — converting the Blue Room (currently, the Family Room) to a nursery and the problem that it’s too far from our downstairs bedroom. A problem I’d fix, I thought, by moving our bedroom upstairs next to it by converting my study into a bedroom. Then, having settled that, my mind went on to paint colors, wallpapers, crib and baby furniture. And names. Danielle, I decided. Dani, for short. And, if it’s a boy? Oh, that just isn’t possible! Sam and Alex will maul him so it better be a girl.
So, last night, we were having dinner and my, was it awfully quiet. We have gotten used to not having Sam around during weekdays (well, somewhat, because I still get bad pangs of separation anxiety now and then) but not having Alex at home too?
After dinner, I worked for a bit, showered and, you know, then it was time to enjoy my night alone with Speedy.
So, there was Speedy watching TV and he asked whether I wanted ice cream or mojito. And I said ice cream first (we hadn’t had dessert yet) then mojito later (the thought of some serious bedroom romping in a semi-inebriated state was simply titillating).
So, Speedy went to the kitchen and brought up a bowl with two teaspoons. And we had pistachio ice cream — with slices of bananas, corn flakes and caramel syrup.
Gone in about five minutes.
Is there a possibility that I am pregnant? I think not. Unless one can get pregnant by eating ice cream while watching Tom Norrington-Davies in Great British Food on Travel and Living Channel. Then, Anthony Bourdain in No Reservations. I can’t even remember what program came after that — I fell asleep. We didn’t even get to the mojito part.
Lesson: If you’re expecting something amorous to happen, don’t allow ice cream with all the those trimmings to enter the picture. It makes you darn sleepy. :mrgreen: