Waking up to the gentle bird song and trickling water of a smart alarm, I roll over into the space where he should be.
The stairs creak as I avoid DIY book left on them. The clothes are warm from the radiator.
I bring my laptop back to bed, and work snuggled under my duvet until lunchtime, as the house is still topsy turvy from doing up the kitchen. I chase people for records, solve Facebook problems and check copy.
At lunch, I scurry away, enjoy my new car on a short drive to my grandmother's house, and we disappear off to have a pub lunch. Something is very satisfying about reminiscing about childhood games, and going to work with her at the art gallery. We eat posh sandwiches and chocolate orange puddings. They come with space dust garnishes that make us laugh when they surprise us crackling in our mouth.
I come home to the quiet house, sigh at the piles of dust and things and tools, and go back to my computer. More chasing, more emails.
When 6pm rolls around, I've just had the satisfaction of knowing I've successfully trained someone over the phone to share content on different Facebook pages.
It's domesticity time. Crates of food and spaces make their way into the new kitchen. The plaster still isn't 100% dry yet, so no painting tonight. Washing up in the dishwasher, clothes in the washing machine. Secret Santa presents bought.
And so to here. Sat quietly, thinking about supper.