Breakfast In Bed

Somehow last night, I convinced Dr K that it would be a good idea to bring me breakfast in bed this morning. I think I had to do with her not pulling her weight around the house - after all, while I was very busy alternately mucking about with my computer and playing with Rochester in the garden, she was just lazing around doing the washing up, mowing the lawn, tidying the garage, cleaning the house and making my dinner and stuff.

Lazy cow.

So anyway, last night I was poking around on the book of faces and I noticed that one of my mates had enjoyed breakfast in bed that morning. So I pointed this out to Dr K and to my amazement, rather than suggesting I eat my testicles instead (maybe on toast), she agreed to make me breakfast in bed! This is something that almost never happens to me. In the last five years, I've only ever been given breakfast in bed two or maybe three times. One of those times was facilitated by my brother's girlfriend. Probably best not to ask*.

Sadly, it turns out that getting breakfast in bed is a minefield of problematic decisions. Look:


And it doesn't stop there. Once you're sitting up in bed, with your breakfast on your lap, you then have to make the most terrible decision of all. One that could affect your mood for the entire day:


I ate my cereal first. I really hate soggy cereal!

So, today we've established that I am an ungrateful son of a bitch. (To be fair, I've brought Dr K a cup of tea (sometimes two) almost every day for five years. I'm not that bad a boyfriend!)

(*what's that? You insist on knowing the story behind my brothers girlfriends breakfast infidelity? Okay:

We were on a family holiday; me and Dr K, Little Bro and Kebbers**, and my parents. For some reason I was avoiding my parents - I forget why - and was staying in my room 'til they left. So Kebbers brought me breakfast in bed.

Not nearly as sordid as you were expecting, huh?)

(**Yeah, I know 'Kebbers' is an odd name for a girl. There's a whole story behind that, too:

We were staying in a holiday park and in order to use the facilities we had to carry a membership card with our names on. Unfortunately, my dad got my brother's girlfriend's surname horribly, horribly wrong: Donoghue. Not even close.

So, because I'm a bit of a dickhead and like to play around with tenuous similarities in words, I changed 'Donoghue' to 'Doner' which became 'Doner Kebab' which became 'Kebab' and then finally, 'Kebbers'.

I didn't say it was a good story.)