Genesis 2:18(a)

I am a de facto bachelor for the next two weeks or so. I drove my wife to the airport yesterday from whence she is off to visit her mother in Dublin. In her absence I am, not to put too fine a point upon it, miserable. As married men go, I am one of the most married. She doesn’t have to do anything or say anything; she just has to be here. And she’s not here. This place is dead without her.

And it’s raining. (A suitable comment from the weather angels on Gray Pay-to-Play Davis’ win yesterday.)

I shall now pull up a webcast of the news from RTE, grill a couple of lamb chops, and see what sort of beer is in the fridge. Right after Vespers.