In all honesty, I have been remembering it at night and I feel slightly guilty and then fall blissfully into sleep and amnesia, never to remember again until the next night...
I think God wants me to continue because He reminded me this morning. Or my brain decided to work and reminded me. Or those iron tablets really do help.
I haven't written about the honeymoon, have I? Everyone asks about it, and we always have the same reply.
"What did you do?"
We look at each other.
"Nothing."
Yes, 10 days in Tasmania, and we did nothing? Not entirely true, but true in the sense of what people want to know. We did things. We watched movies (lots). We slept (not as much, but we wanted to). We ate. We drank (an awful lot of Cascade brand drinks). We went to Hobart a few times. We went to Salamanca Markets. We drove up Mount Wellington, had our photo taken by a kind stranger, froze, and drove back to our little house (I got several delightful mozzie bites on my poor little bottom). We drove around some place whose name I didn't really know. Tasmanian maps suck. I couldn't figure them out, even if I turned them around.
So that was it :)
We were both very happy to get back, so happy that I decided we needed to be less happy. So I got sick. Then I decided we were still too happy. So I made Phil get sick. Then I decided we weren't happy enough and we both got better.
But by that stage we'd already gotten behind in things like washing (the washing machine broke), uni (I missed Week 1 because I was on honeymoon, and then missed the beginning of Week 2 because I was sick) and cleaning (my body was very achy). It took a week or two for me to start getting on top of things and stop feeling stressed and slightly guilty.
Life is mitigated bliss.
