Mundane Moments

A couple of days ago was the 20th anniversary of my brother’s death. Some on here may remember me banging on about it. Mark was 46, a massive Forest fan and my best mate. He was a member here for a while, posting as Yorkshire Red, until he realised what cunts you all are. His wife is batshit crazy but the new bloke she married has done a great job bringing up Mark’s two kids, both season ticket holders these days.

Anyway, I had planned to do something to mark the occasion. For whatever reason, I wanted to feel a bit of pain so I decided to walk 20 miles to the City Ground, later reduced to 20km on appeal. It’s odd but now the day has come and gone I’m much more at peace with it all so am now intending to drink 20 pints over a few days instead.

Packing up my home ahead of moving next Friday. Can't decide whether a glass of wine will make it more fun, or just make me less motivated.

I guess it depends on the size of the glass and whether one glass becomes more than one glass.
You might need a Guru formula here, but perhaps not want one.

I decided that the only way to stop wondering whether I should have a glass of wine was to have a glass of wine.

Unfortunately the bottle is open now, so I may be forced to finish it.

I'm alternating between "build and fill a box" and "sit on my arse for 10 minutes watching football". It's working ok so far.

Once the Germany / Ivory Coast game is done I'll probably walk over to my friend's place and sit on her rooftop patio drinking wine and enjoying the sunset, so I have around two hours of packing left to go.

I am several glasses of wine deep. Not that surprising of course, but tonight was inspired by some new dishwasher plumbing cuntery.
No floods, but quite a lot of swearing. Partly because it didn't come with the Jubilee clip needed to secure the drain pipe to the outflow pipe under the sink. That resulted in a quick trip to Chezza B+Q. But mainly because the new dishwasher quickly recorded an error. Mrs Rave misread it as a drain / blockage error. Resulting in me taking apart the under the sink pipework hunting blockages - and taking several attempts to reconnect the ageing pipework without drips.
Turns out our new dishwasher has arrived with a faulty pump. Mrs Rave will be unleashing hell on the suppliers tomorrow.