Life of a Peach
Ah. They’ve finally all gone. Every last one of them. Thank God. The pool is a mess. It’s sort of cloudy and full of leaves and bits of body that I’d rather wasn’t in there, like male sweat, fluff and testosterone – all floating unseen in that big expanse of water. Ugh. Even though the filter is working on ‘overload’, there’ll be no skinny-dipping for me tonight, just in case. Oh, so I’ve got a pool. Yeah. Instead of a car. Seriously. I don’t care about cars as long as they go when you stick in the key. But a pool I love. I can hear you say, ‘Yeah, but you can’t ride a pool to work’. Right. But, hey, haven’t you heard of car-pooling? Ha! Got you there. Actually, I work from home, so that doesn’t bother me. Oh, yawn, think I’ll leave this for awhile.
Just eaten. Last night’s leftovers. Reheated, but in a china plate. A pasta bowl of course. NEVER reheat in plastic, you know that, don’t you? If you don’t, go online and find out about it. Knock back the exaggeration and hone in on the facts. It takes 10 seconds to transfer food from a plastic container to a china or glass one, then you can be sure you’re not going to be eating chemicals with the food you’ve just heated up.
Anyway, I’m just rid of 7 strapping young men flapping around in the pool like seals playing ‘getchya’ or ‘gotchaya’, depending how unlucky they were because skill doesn’t seem to come into it, and daughter having cooked herself some pasta and dressed it with generous spoonfuls of my gorgeously sweet tomato sauce I made this afternoon from our homegrown tomatoes, is now enjoying a glass of Riesling on the verandah with a friend before going out. Her laugh is infectious. The most glorious sound, starting mid-range, but then falling down in layers before building up again. Crescendo. Decrescendo. Her laugh starts at just the right point, for me, and fills the space, the air, with happiness.