6 May 2013
Getting chubby again. Chub, chub, chub.
Also have another cold, and Enzo got me out of bed three times last night. I feel like going on strike, but how? Maybe I’ll call in sick without telling Teresa and then just go to the movies. It’s raining, which feels lovely after all the early heat. The air feels tropical and soft.
Enzo: “Your boobs and your butt-cheeks are so big.”
Enzo: “They’re big civilians.”
Me: “What’s a civilian?”
Enzo: “Guys in the navy call other guys civilians. Civilians are just guys.”
(I still don’t get how that applies to my boobs and butt-cheeks, except as a general term of derision.)
Enzo: “How many letters are there in Ideal Club Sandwich?”
Teresa: “I don’t know. Let’s see.”
She writes IDEAL CLUB SANDWICH and they count the letters together.
Me: “What’s an Ideal Club Sandwich? It sounds pretty good.”
Enzo: “It’s from Scooby Doo.”
Enzo, shouting from the bath: “I just peed on my face!”