Slothful Sunday

So yesterday was a little bit of a bust. After spending Friday and most of Saturday kicking the weekend's ass and being awesome, something slightly tragic happened to me on Saturday evening that kinda derailed my continued quest for brilliance. I won't bore you with the details or anything, nobody died, but it sorta put me out of sorts for the rest of the weekend.

Sunday came and I could barely be counted as being fully there. Lumped on the couch so lazy, lethargic, I was happy to literally veg for the entire day. Problem was, Husband spent the entire day irradiating awesomeness. The two days prior we were both kicking ass, I traipsed all the way to IKEA to invest in a sewing machine so Husband was able to hem the curtains we bought for the apartment (this probably should have been my job really but he seamed really excited to learn how to sew-machine). So whilst he was busy all day trying to figure that, out I finally did all those things that I'd been putting off for ages, I sorted out all our important documents and filed them away, cleaned the bathroom and tidied our balcony.

By Sunday tho I was out of ideas and just wanted to nothing, yet Husband just kept at it, kept putting my househusbandry to shame. For starters he kept pulling amazing food out of his proverbial (not literally as that would be unsanitary and taste like ew). Breakfast was a breakfast burrito made with pancetta and potato hash, homemade guacamole, sour cream and cheese.

4 Noms out of 5

Lunch was a light snack of some tortilla chips and the remainder of his guac. Divine!

5 Noms out of 5

Meanwhile I believe at this point I finally moved from one side of the couch to the other, a big achievement on this day. Then as Husband was now a veritable whiz on the sewing machine he turned an old pair of my jeans into some on-trend hipster shorts, modeled here on the right by yours truly.

To top it, off for dinner I was presented with a large bowl of homemade French onion soup with gruyere croutons.

It took all the Noms, ever!

So thinking I managed to escape the day without having to do anything even shower, Husband turns to me and asks nicely if I would go to the shop and pick up something sweet.

Nooooooooooo! How could I refuse? He had been spectacular all day and I had literally fused to the couch. Problem is when you've spent the day doing nothing it is nearly impossible to snap yourself out of it. I was so close, it was nearly nine o'clock, home stretch but I had to, otherwise I would have been in contention for the worst GBM ever.

A quick venture outside after a day of nothing usually calls for an equally lazy outfit choice. Elasticated waistbands are usually the way to go because goodness knows buttoning or zipping a fly is too strenuous. Sweats, yes I said it, sweats, an acceptable accoutrement in the Chav infested waters of Ireland or the UK but fashion suicide in Switzerland (I have been told by a friend they are not meant to be seen worn outside of the home). I didn't care, I didn't care enough to wash myself so why would I let this bother me. Baseball cap, wife beater and zip hoodie (a round necked jumper again would have taken too much energy to throw on) rounded off my ensemble. Quite the sight.

    

So Husband got his treats and I managed to finally peel myself off the couch. It was nice to feel like I accomplished at least one thing that day I guess.

GBM