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We’re painting the kitchen ceiling and door frames.

So, naturally, we covered the tiled floor in newspapers (where we get these newspapers from, I don’t know. We don’t actually get any kind of newspaper but the cupboard always have newspapers ready for recycling. I think Beloved must operate an underground press. Either that or they're breeding in a great incestuous illicit orgy in the cupboard under the stairs).

So upon raiding the kitchen for home made biscuits (Yorkshire Gingernuts. Nom nom nom) I glance down and see a crossword and the answer pops into my head (hey, glasses are working!!)

Fast forward 20 minutes to Beloved coming in

Beloved: Why are you laying on the floor?
Me: There’s a crossword here!
Beloved: Couldn’t you just take the paper? Hey Sodoku!

There then follows much crawling around on the floor hunting down sodokus and crosswords. And then Beloved was totally hogging all of the sodokus (how grossly unfair) so we had to discuss this which turned into having to wrestle over it (sodoku was ripped. Poor Sodoku)

I think I’ve plastered paint all over one of my good shirts, damn it.
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sparkindarkness

April 2015

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