Staycation? What staycation?

The hot seat…

 The reason why we need three thousand bookshelves…

Beloved is taking the week off work, ostensibly for a 'staycation,' although I have hardly seen him - projects have come up and he's had all sorts of presentations and things to finish, so he's been stealing my office, and he's got rather sneaky about it.

This morning I was sitting at the desk, doubtless doing something incredibly important like, blogging, or reading Perez, when Beloved appeared in the doorway.

'Want to come and sit with me while I have breakfast?' he said, seductively.

'Sure,' I leaped up and headed for the kitchen, only to turn around and see him sitting at my computer with an evil glint in his eye.

'I'll be right there,' he kept saying, as I moaned at him, and spent the next half hour scuffing round the kitchen waiting.

This is not the first time. His stuff is slowly taking over my office. And he doesn't like the way I don't put anything back where it belongs (I don't like it either, but I can't help it. I'm genetically wired to put things down in ridiculous, unlikely spots, never to find them again).

I love having him home. And when we build our house, I'm making sure he has an office all to himself.

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