What was I going to say again?

I have the best ever blog planned here. Only I'm too darn lazy to write it. I've been dying to give all the ins and outs about what it's like to live with two husbands for a week.  It's interesting observing my ex husband and Beloved interact with one another because they are poles apart, yet they get along like a house on fire. Flitwick, the ex, is leaving us tomorrow and I'm gutted about it. I've almost grown accustomed to the cups of tea, not having to cook dinner and no dishes. He really is the most house-trained man I've ever met. He should be, considering I spent 17 years training him!  I think it's Flitwick's fault that I just don't feel in the mood to write my coolest entry yet. You see, after dinner there was nothing for me to do except to go and have a soak in our little hot tub that Beloved purchased off Trademe for a meagre 300 and something bucks. I fondly refer to it as the "Fart in a Bucket" because it's not very big and I was sceptical about whether or not it would work properly considering it's dimensions and affordability.

Beloved has situated the Fart right on our lower, front deck in full view of the entire neighbourhood, which is why I have to wait for nightfall before I can slip out there in my undergarments. Don't be too shocked - I'm saving on laundry and it's not nearly as bad as what Beloved wears (as in does NOT wear) when he slips out there.

So, I've just come in from a nice long soak in the Fart - in the dark...in the dark, Fart...and I've completely forgotten what I was going to say.  It had something to do with broody hens, fertilized eggs, earthquake survival kits and dinner at Denny's. I'm sure it'll come to me later in the week.

Gee I'm going to miss Flitwick. May the next year fly by until he visits again.