Orpheus and I kind of bottomed out this weekend. There was, granted, a great deal of cooking, and we actually were out of the apartment quite a bit, but both of us were (and are still,) fairly miserable with that horrid virus I updated y’all on yesterday. The upsurge of the story, though, is that we’ve actually slept enough this weekend to kind of catch up to ourselves, so perhaps we’ll have a good week coming up.
Yesterday, we actually got quite a bit done. I posted early, as O. was abed and incapable of rising until noon, which suited me fine. Did a little reading, a little cleaning, a little cooking… Then we picked up Chemie (Orpheus’ middle sister,) and went to Brat Fest for a scant half-hour. It was terrible. The world’s biggest brat fest, and it was, as expected, populated mostly by fannie-pack-wearing, fat-assed trailer trash. Plus, this year there was a moving carnival as part of the attraction… The entire fiasco was horrifying. We high-tailed it after a quick walk-about, and hit Target and Copps for Chemie’s sake (she doesn’t have a car). We also had a brief layover at Old Navy, where I got the most unlikely combination of shirt and shorts for the equivalent of a song. Usually, they wouldn’t work… Loud electric blue shorts with a green and orange plaid, with a white vertically striped shirt in blue and green… Of course, the colors match. As Terra Firma put it, she saw me coming and thought “ouch! Plaids and lines… Oooh, he rocks it!” Gay trendy grandpa, indeed…
I also, while O. slept the sleep of the exhausted consumer post-trip, cooked my famed ratatouille from scratch last night, accompanied by a nicely (and simply) marinated mahi-mahi, sautéed in butter with shallots, and dressed with a nice pan-sauce made with quickly reduced voignier. Next time, to make the fish more closely match the side, I’ll put a little fennel in the marinade. I think that will tie things together quite nicely. We also did a lovely improvised trifle for dessert, as there were some lovely strawberries on super-sale at Copps! It was low-fat vanilla yoghurt, whipped, a layer of fruit, more whipped yoghurt, then whipped cream. Yummy!
The one area that I wish were doing better in is the sex area. Big surprise, I know. Orpheus isn’t constantly ill, or asthmatic, or impaired by his allergies to everything natural on the planet, so he just doesn’t get suffering. He’s probably, if anything, doing better than I am in terms of the progression of the virus, and I’m the one stuck doing all the heavy lifting. This means, of course, that he’s even more sluggish than usual in his need for the nasty… Not that he’s a slug on that count… He generally wants it at least three to five times a week, himself. I just want it several times, every day. I drop to wanting it once a day when I’m feeling really low, but he drops to not wanting to do it at all, and can’t even force himself to perform due to guilt. It’s a very sad situation, and it’s driving me up a wall, sideways. I’ll just have to over-medicate and sleep the sleep of the dead. Wouldn’t be the first time! ;-)
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