There is a wild storm hovering over New Zealand. Yesterday the husband woke up worried about the house he is renovating. I had to work all morning so he packed our 3 into the car and drove the hour up the coast to check on the house. As the children fought in the car, he clambered all over the roof attempting to tie down the tarpaulin as it whipped around him in the screaming wind and rain. His mood was surprisingly chipper when he walked back in the door. He then won his weight in brownie points by organising a babysitter and booking a table for dinner.
Our romantic evening ended up being a lively dinner for us and four friends, Cadillac martinis and collapsing into bed at 2am. Fun and a half.
This morning I broke my toe. I failed to negociate the sofa and gave it a hefty kick. It's rather inconvenient for the constant dropping down to knee level that motherhood necessitates. The husband's advice as I writhed around on the floor, clutching my blackening little digit and trying not to sob? "Run it off, Ruddy".