Responsibility hides in here somewhere

Responsibility hides in here somewhere

It’s Sunday, I pleading diminished responsibility. Or taking whatever amendment of the constitution that says I can’t incriminate myself.

All was going well this morning. The laundry lady came and went, I had Nap-fued, I had emptied my mail box and had posted on most blogs.

Noon! That was when it happened.

Smells of BBQ wafted through my window.

“I have to investigate,” I said to myself.

I arrived with bottle of chilled beer just as they were serving liver, wonderful succulent BBQed liver.

My body cried “Gout!” A horrible thought that was immediately pushed to the back of the mind as I reached for the proffered platter.

And that… my dear readers, was that.

But the story doesn’t end there, oh no.

I paid my dues at the bar, ready to come home, and there was another BBQ right opposite my gate, on the praça side. I passed by (I hade to cross the road to do so), and was told “Pull up a chair!” I did as I was told. More BBQ, served with sides, rice, potato salad, forrofa and molho… AH, lunch.

By the time I got home three hours later, I was knackered (figuratively speaking) and seriously needed some more Nap-fu as I had now been BBQed twice.

It’s 4pm…

The football has started. Flamengo playing some obscure team. But I am compelled to post. To tell you that I have been a bad boy. My mouth is as dry as a little wooden god; too much salt, and I am drinking iced sparkling mineral water for penance… One should observe ones penance on a Sunday, don’t you think?

So it is that I have survived the entire day without making a single dirty dish to wash.

Sunday can be such a wonderful day of the week.

I look forward to another next week.

Later.

 

 

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