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Home is where the happy is

It’s been a domestic weekend.  The house has been cleaned and aired out, the fridge is stuffed with groceries, the washing up has vanished, and I even folded up and put away all the washed clothes, instead of leaving them in the basket on top of the washing machine to be rifled through like some sort of discount bin.  Staggering!

M has been cooking – and I can’t think of enough adjectives. When he told me lunch was ready, this is what I found:

Between those two chilled glasses of pinot grigio is a bowl of rocket, parmesan and crouton salad, lashed with olive oil and salt.  Oh my, yes.

And it only got better:

A wonderful, wonderful pizza.  Instead of making a pizza sauce, M just used tinned tomatoes ladled straight onto the cooked base, and then sprinkled with salt and cayenne pepper.  A few chunks of mozzarella and back in the oven.  The basil was added just as M served.

It’s been a hectic week, and the house got shamefully neglected.  It has been wonderful to set things straight, clean things up, restock the pantry and the wine rack (yay!) and get the home base in order.  It feels so good.

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