Boom goes the dynamite!

So I was in the bathroom, doing my thang, when I made a certain noise and heard Mister Choochoo's voice from outside say; "boom goes the dynamite!" We're definitely past that stage of our relationship where we hide our impolite noises from each other. Hell, around here, those noises are another form of communication.

Meanwhile, in London...

Morning glory

Because I am very sweet, loving and whatnot, I like to make a nice pot of coffee in the morning. Being more partial to coffee drinks with fancy, Italian names, I usually pour myself a small cup and drink about half if that while Mister Choochoo takes care of the rest.

This morning, I was in the middle of dumping coffee into our French press, when Pooch happened by. She stopped, did a little tap routine and stared at me expectantly. I said some words. She did another little dance, this time with a song. I said more words. Satisfied with our exchange, Pooch continued to her crate (which is more of a large tent with windows) to do whatever the hell she does in her crate. Sometimes she likes to lick her bed very slowly, eyes closed. But I digress.
I returned to my coffee-making-project, only to realise that I had no idea how many measuring spoons I'd already put in. So I guessed. The result is pictured below. Look at that! That is blacker than Satan's personal exit tunnel, that is... But hey, I'm awake.

To sleep crazy

Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up because I heard myself say something that sounded a lot like "here comes Santa!" Then I found myself basically crawling around on top of Mr Choochoo, who - unlike me - was still sleeping soundly.

So yeah...that was a thing.

Also, there's this: