So this didn’t quite work out the way I’d planned – with all the best intentions, I was going to just reach over and grab my laptop the moment I woke. First of all, I forgot last night to put the laptop on my bedside table, and so that little plan failed before I even got started. And then we fell into our usual morning routine – me hurrying to the bathroom to pee before B’s shower (I am NOT an au natural kinda gal, so wouldn’t dream of doing my business whilst he’s in the bathroom), then to the kitchen to put on some coffee. Once in the kitchen, of course I found things to do, so started loading the dishwasher with dishes from last night. But after that I really WAS going to head back to the bedroom and knock out these morning pages.
“Would you mind making some porridge?”
B’s gorgeous face appearing round the door frame, big blue eyes looking at me in that loving way they always do that makes me go warm inside.
I make the best porridge in the world. Period. Actually, Pret’s porridge is better, but I come a bloody close second. And I love taking care of B, be it ironing his shirts, cleaning the place so he comes home to a beautiful, warm and welcoming home (OK, obsessively clean and tidy, but warm all the same – no one can wipe surfaces or adjust picture frames and ornaments with the intense love I put into it, in fact I’m sure there have been times B has been jealous of the vacuum cleaner), and I love cooking for him. My cooking usually involves excessive amounts of chilli and garlic with some additional ingredients like chicken or prawns. My dinners normally makes B sweat. But my porridge doesn’t make him sweat, nor does it make his nose run, I’m a wiz at it.
I felt a little annoyed. I am quite obsessive. Perhaps I have OCD, in that I always form a step like plan in my mind. This could be something simple like just the order in which I’m going to do things, even trivial stuff like 1) put the coffee on, 2) empty/load the dishwasher, 3) shower, 4) fetch a cup of coffee (which will have brewed through by then – my routines and plans are often about timing and I get massively irritated if something or someone interferes) that I have while I on a sub-plan a) apply deodorant, b) apply face moisturiser, c) use cotton buds to get water out of my ears, d) apply body lotion, e) relocate to the bedroom where I f) comb through my hair, g) apply mascara or even more make-up depending on what I’m doing. Then back to the main plan and 5) get dressed then 6) get on to whatever I need to to that day (and yes, a new list).
Today my immediate OCD plan was to 1) put on the coffee, and then immediately 2) go back to the bedroom to churn out these pages.
But even an irritable So Not Morning Person like me can’t get annoyed with the glorious, wonderful, kind and loving dream boat that is B. I mean, after well over a year and having lived together for most of that time, I still don’t find anything about him that annoys me. Call me a monster, but I am a solitary being and for someone to suddenly invade this Me Space – or ‘bubble’ as I lovingly used to call my existence – without me bucking like a rodeo horse is pretty amazing in that I haven’t gone crazy. Nope. In fact, I feel a little lost when B’s not around.
And not even when he interrupts and ruins my Holy Morning OCD Plan, do I want to injure and maim him. Incredible, this love stuff. It sure was worth getting all the way to 37 to stumble upon him. No, I wasn’t drunk that night. I didn’t stumble, but I may have been a little tipsy towards the end as I remember giggling when he leaned down (I call him Tall Stuff) to place a soft little kiss on my lips before parting ways.
So my plan was out the window, and I made porridge for this gorgeous man creature.
The trick is to use about 1.6 parts milk to the amount of oats (I could tell you the EXACT spot on the mug I use that the second milk helping comes up to), and the oats have to be the bigger ones. I add a pinch of salt and cook on a low heat, stirring continuously. Never let it boil, just let it slowly go from a wet mess to a silky, creamy goo. I take out a bit for me and then add sugar and cinnamon to B’s helping that’s still in the saucepan. I don’t have a sweet tooth, he does. By the time it’s done, so is B (timing, remember), so we sit down to eat together.
And that’s pretty nice. I’m trying to find new routines, new OCD plans, in order to feel I make something meaningful of this new life I have embarked on. And so, my Morning Pages today ended up being my Mid-Morning Pages (well, it’s still just 8.04am), but at least I’m sitting in bed writing this.
End result – I feel pleased despite the Porridge Interruption, having started the day with my best friend and having porridge together, and also feel virtuous now that I’ve got this done. I was worried it would feel like a chore (and I’m sure sometimes it will), but it’s amazing how short the 20 minutes I set the timer to turned out to be (it beeped a couple of minutes ago), and even more amazing what the mind comes up with when you just let it wander.