Any Given Sunday

I don’t want to get too thinky thinky at the moment – because really this is just an excuse to put up a picture of a ball-strokingly good bacon sandwich I ate yesterday (you must must use the smoked bacon sold by the gentleman Roy Gibbs from the Heartwood Smokehouse stand – currently at the Jozi Food Market at the Pirates Club on Saturday mornings, it’s the only way).

The Great Bacon Sandwich Index: A. how much of it was smeared all over my face after I was finished, and B. how much my house still continued to smell like bacon when I got back from gym the next morning? The answer to both questions, lots. High Score.

Sunday is generally a fairly divisive day – you’re either swimming in a smug haze of sexed-up laziness and then all that other stuff: newspapers, coffee, eggs, walks with dogs/cats/other–people-who-own-or-have-stolen-dogs/cats, lunch that features more drinking than actual lunch, rambling conversations about blue and how totally great it is, gin-soaked sunsets framed by paper umbrellas and completely impractical garnishes made of pineapple, and then maybe a movie and some more of that laziness thing.  Or you take a lot of baths and wonder how the hell your navel fluff is always purple before watching that episode of Friends where Chandler is shut in a box.  Again.

Yep, a pretty all-or-nothing day.

And oddly, it sometimes takes a particular kind of energy and lets face it – practice, to make sure that more of the first types of Sunday happen than the second kind, because a couple of those in a row and the next thing you’re starting to think that Engelbert Humperdink is an excellent name for the Korean child you’d suddenly like to adopt.

What’s funny, is that right now in Johannesburg this dear city of ours, there’s a sense that just about everyone and everything is holding a breath.  The air is slowly getting that delicious thickness that heralds a highveld summer, cleavage is slowly blinking its way into the daylight and remembering how fun it was to be outside, and the people (okay, me) who bought jerseys at the Winter Sales are starting to feel really stupid.  And yet – we’re all juuust holding back during these final weeks of August, perhaps keeping everything in check before September happens and we all allow ourselves to finally go utterly insane.  But the anticipation is there, and yesterday I felt it good and proper. Like one of those long jokes where unexpectedly the punchline is really funny and makes you laugh from right down in your wobbly bits.

So, I guess it’s okay to lie just that little bit low for a week or two more, eat a couple more bacon sandwiches, build up some strength, and maybe learn how to say “do you like tickle tickle?” in Finnish.

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