How many times I’ve knocked the torch out of the cupboard: Thirteen.
What I do to the torch: Check it still works, then move it to the remote caddy by my side of the bed. What use for a torch I’ll have while sleeping, I don’t know; I’m not even sure I’ll notice there’s been a power cut – I’m certainly not old enough to get up for the loo in the middle of the night. I can’t think why we have a remote caddy either, we never watch TV in the bedroom anyway. These are first world problems; I wish life was simpler, we could fill it only with the things that matter then.
What I do in the kitchen: Open the fridge and exclaim “Ew! It’s all mouldy!” When my wife comes in to investigate I show her the block of Stilton and chuckle to myself while she huffs at me for being stupid. I make out like I’m going to tickle her and she runs out the room. We’ll be embarrassing parents if the time ever comes.
What I think about: If Stilton is mouldy to start with, then what is the “used by” date for? Does the bad mould grow after that date? Or does the good mould flip over to the bad side when it sees how much fun the jam is having at the back of the fridge…
What I put in the cupboard in place of the small torch: A bigger torch that is less like to be knocked out, but doesn’t quite fit in the space on the shelf.
What our new candles smell of: Coffee
What I wonder: When exactly the world became obsessed with coffee and its effects and who is responsible for filling my social media feeds up with adverts and quips about the damn stuff. I’m getting stressed about it. I think I need a drink, maybe a cup of…