Pic of the day: OK, so not all of those are from me. But materialism is still very much in vogue during the holidays.
Despite waking up a dozen times, it feels I spent most of the night in the same dream, with some variations.
In the dream I was a man in a kind of huge concrete castle or complex - not quite a prisoner but not able to leave either. In various parts of the dream I was either accompanied by a robot or myself interfacing with the central machine intelligence of the complex, which was actually quite helpful. The place was maze-like and mostly devoid of human life.
I got up a bit over nine, which was when we had decided to get up for breakfast. I knew they would be late. I had actually laughed out loud yesterday when Cutie promised the shop clerkie that we would be back at 10:30 next day. But tickle me if we didn't, though there were not many seconds left to go.
From then on, it escalated. SuperWoman is back, and she is back with a vengeance. "We need this. We could use that. Afterwards, we can go there. And then ..." I'm not going to post it all in detail, just in case some of the people involved sneak in on my homepage (it's not like they don't know about it) but let me just say that the last things we bought cost hundreds of dollars and teetered on the very brink of decency. I still wonder if she's actually going to wear those things in public and while sober. And if she does, I hope I'll there to see it. :)
We even found time for a meal at the local McDonalds. There was some wait for the food, but we actually got a table as soon as we arrived. That was unexpected. The last day before Christmas is Husband Day in my mind and some others: It's when the males eventually and reluctantly shop Xmas gifts. Usually they would do this on Christmas Eve, but the malls are closed on that day since it is a Sunday this year. I guess the gas stations are still open, but I have on good authority that gifts clearly bought on a gas station tend to bring down the wrath of the females. Don't ask me why. The day I understand how women think, I'll seek professional help. Or buy a bra or something.
Anyway, we came home panting under the burden of a huge load of carrying bags, stuffed with clothes and other gifts. I even bought a little bit of chocolate, assuming that no one else would. After all, the females are all in a health frenzy. No snacks, but jogging and gym. Or so they say. It does not keep the fingers from automatically stuffing fries into the mouth, as long as someone else buys them.
Not that I complain. I like women well rounded. By Norwegian standards, that is. That's quite a bit less than American standards. Poor Cutie came back from New York with noticeably more "personal luggage" than she left with, and has heard some comments about it ever since. It's not a big problem, most of the caloric reserve seems to have settled on thighs and hips, as is good and proper. A plush backside counts as interior decoration by my book. It's when you get those car tyres around your midsection that things get ugly. Not healthy is it, either. "Male fat."
Unsurprisingly, Africa seems to have the opposite effect of America when it comes to weight regulation. Poor SuperWoman is visibly reduced, though she's still attractive. Then again, I'm not quite up to my maximal size myself any longer. I lost quite a bit of weight too when she was in Africa. Understand it those who can.
Right now I am getting used to the turtle feeling. Having lured SW into a debt of honor to me during our high-octane shopping spree, I forced her to change the bandages on my back. OK, that's a bit dramatized, but I hear people want drama in a journal. What really happened was that I asked her nicely for help, coincidentally after she'd declared her guilt in regard to the shopping thing. I'd have shopped with her anyway, and she would have helped me anyway. That's just how friends are.
In the novels, when the female main character bandages the wounds of the male ditto, it's usually the beginning of something great and precious. In my case, it's the beginning of feeling like a turtle, because she added such generous amounts of medical tape all over the place that I won't shrug it off in a while!
I'll not go into detail on the cool touch of her small, firm fingers against my naked skin - because truth to tell it wasn't much to write home about. And to think I gave $5 each for those novels. Next time I think I'll buy Animorphs.
Quote of the day: "I did not look at the packets, I just peeked a little." (Cutie.)
Real event of the day: According to the radio news, yet another asteroide narrowly missed our planet. Really puts things into perspective, don't you think?
 Sorry, but I just had to put that expression in somewhere. Her fingers at least actually are small.
Still some snow on the ground.
Visit the Diary Farm for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.