Bed Head

He is an angel in human form.

Following yesterday's spectacular catapult over the bedroom furniture, my left hand is gashed so badly that I have to keep it covered, try not to use it, and can't get it wet.

So we got home last night and He, obviously having missed His true calling as a health and safety inspector, set about rearranging all the bedroom furniture so that such an accident couldn't happen again (I did point out that for that to be truly effective we'd also have to find a way of extracting my clumsiness gene, but never mind!). Once this had been done (with an impressive mix of functional and attractive), I then decided to throw a strop about having filthy hair that I can't wash for at least a week until my hand starts to heal properly.

Cue Him offering to wash my hair for me. And not only did He wash it, He also indulged me by washing it the way I do - shampooing twice, conditioner, anti frizz stuff, etc etc. And aside from deliberately showering my chest (bringing about a wet t-shirt contest moment), He did it very well.

And so it is that I sit here today with an aching, heavily bandaged hand, but also clean shiny hair.

Things are good in Mookmoo's world.