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there is no better place

There is no better place than HERE.
No better time than NOW.

But today, here and now, feels pretty strange.
It's Monday:
Monday's are renowned for being blue and just a touch manic (if you're lucky).Mondays aren't meant to be slow and lazy.
It doesn't bode well for the rest of my work week if I start it on slow.

But I'm playing hookie!
It takes a while for me to adjust my pace...and my mindset.
I snuggle down, bury my head under white linens, giving Magic Monday a chance.The continuous drone of the washing machine is like a lullaby, rocking me to sleep again. I stretch lazy like a cat; rubbing tired eyes. Sleep seems like a sin when the world is at work.

I stretch again, lazier still, arch my back; my body finding cold spots. I draw my legs in seeking warmth. I wish he had stayed here with me...

I hear the front door open, cock my head listening to the approaching footsteps;  careful footsteps so as not to disturb the sleeping. I smile, glad he has returned to find me under the covers. My eyes open to slits: "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with S..."
I know exactly what I want to happen next.

The best things happen in the morning: Sunrises, breakfasts & morning surprises, unexpected pleasures in the early hours before the tedium of the day has set in. I do my best loving when I'm lazy, and I'm laziest on hot summer days when the temperature scorches the Cape.

"It's hot today," he says, "too hot to be under the covers."
He pulls the duvet back with a flick of his wrist.
Lying on my back with my knees raised, I struggle to sit upright, a grin spreading across my face.
"Oops! Brown like toast, and just as hot," he says in a playful mood.
I can't help myself, his mood is infectious.
I gesture for him to come closer, on my knees now, I lean forward and whisper in his ear: "Play me?"
I hear the groan deep in his throat.

Kissing my Valentino on a Monday, it doesn't get better than this.
Right here, right now, everything in the universe is aligned and the day is set to THRILL!

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Right here, Right now.

The wind whistles & howls, shaking up Cape Town ; waking her weary chidren.

Dazed I wake up for a second time, opening heavy lids to find that Monday had dawned softly. Ribbons of red are slowly beginning to caress the darkness as I stretch out lazy like a cat, lying in the middle of the kingsize bed, my thick winter frame engulfed by fleecy bedding the colour of candy floss.
"Sweet!" I utter out loud to an already empty house as soft light filters in through aluminium blinds making stripes like tattoos on my pale skin.
I should get up, but I am perplexed by the day which stretches ahead of me demanding nothing!
I'm at odds, not used to so much time on my hands, "busy" being my usual setting.

I'm beginning to like this new reality.
The ticking clock by my bedside sets a steady rhythm, as all around me the world is on the go, moving in circles. It's as if the world's forgotten about this one, tiny space. In my cocoon I groggily sit up, twisting m…


Furrows deep and pronounced line my brow. I contemplate them,  willing them away, stroking them gently, each stroke meant to iron them out. I am their canvas, they are my storylines.

I seize my ironing, and listen to their tales.
I feel the cold to my bones!

Not the usual Cape Town cold I grew up with in the Southern Suburbs, but an iciness matching any day spent in Tewkesbury more than a decade ago in the UK.  The kind of cold that requires down feather jackets and knee-high fake fur boots.  The kind of cold that leaves sleet on windshields, and soup pots full.
Central heating!Pah! Our homes in Cape Town are ill-equipped for this kinda torture!
I hug my hot water bottle to me like a long lost lover, it's squishy, and pot-bellied and jiggles when I squeeze it. Raising the white mug to my lips, I slurp the almost scalding coffee quickly. My fifth cuppa and it's only 10:42am. Two bars glow bright orange at me. Mikey hogs the heater, and Georgie sits on top of the TV cabinet like a …

Monday, Funday.

Monday dawns with a quiet ease.
I wake up to the sight of the moon, firm and round.
I appreciate it in silence, not ready for him to know I'm awake.
Making the pleasure all the more enjoyable.

It seems the 1st week of Spring has cast a spell on me.

He wanders out of view and I hear bathroom noises.
It's time for me to make a move.
I stretch, lazy like a cat, wanting to remain here (in this spot) still warm from sleeping bodies.
I am entangled in an endless battle with linen.
I fling the offending cotton off heated, sticky skin; hot flashes spreading like veldfire.

The spray of the shower seizes.
Grinning I burrow back in under the covers pretending to sleep.
Gonna stay here and wait for the moon to reappear, wait for my first coffee, and enjoy the intimacy of the early morning when Blouberg is still asleep, and it is just us.

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