I feel a chill this evening. Even with the warmth provided by the fire and the heating throughout, my fingers and forearms are terribly cold.
Michael is reclining on the sofa with his Stephen King novel. Ms has attempted to redirect his interest in something a bit more refined, but Michael has stayed his course and once more, Ms has relented. It never ceases to amaze me what the boy is allowed, without so much as the batting of an eyelash from Ms.
It is the quite the same as the hamster purchase last year. He puts on his pitiful little boy look and the love in Her heart rises to the surface and pours over him in the form of lenience and gifts.
I cannot speak of it much, as to carry on along this line would be displeasing to Mistress.
In very fact, it is not mine to question why, and therefore I shall change the subject.
We are having a late tea tonight. Fiona is preparing a meal from one of the recipes given to her by MsV's New Orleans cousin. So this evening the flesheaters will be treated to a serving of chicken jambalaya. I shall have the rice and veg version. It does smell quite nice. Perhaps taking on a hot meal will break the chill.
Michael and I chopped a bit more firewood today. He splintered and blistered his hands because he refused to wear the gloves allocated to him. His reasoning was that he could not get a firm grip on the axe whilst wearing them.
I would say this was a plausible argument if the gloves were not meant for outdoor work, but they are. I fair quite well with mine, and as a result have incurred no injuries to date. In time I hope the boy will learn that my advice is sound.
We have been given our 15 minute warning time so I must spur Michael on to the bath so that we might both wash our hands and faces before presenting ourselves in the dining room.
I am aware that this post is short and filled with much of nothing. I wish all a pleasant night and I shall write next of the party at Grayson on Saturday.
Be Well,
Ryan
