I'm sitting here, typing away, whilst listening to commentary on the mighty Coleraine FC's visit to the Linfield scumbags - the miracles of modern technology, eh? (It's nil-nil at the moment, by the way).
Today's been one of those days when I got up with so much to do yet am sadly destined to return to my scratcher with nothing done.
To be fair, I did get to the gym (still hate it) and I do hope to get the grass cut but, with the Ulster rugby team due to run out in less than an hour and three quarters (Live on Setanta Sports 2, in case you're interested) and with Vanessa then due to head out for a girlie evening shortly afterwards, time is not on my side.
Jamie's been in reasonable form for most of the day following a bad start which involved him projectile vomiting down my back, on Vanessa's pillow and all over the headboard of our bed. Good man.
I think the sun's the reason for his relative good humour, mainly because it's allowed him to wear his shades once again. They didn't come out once in Northern Ireland, which was hardly a shock. But he's making up for it today. They also seem to have a strange effect on him.
(Sorry, but I've just heard one of the Linfield fans call the ref a cheating b*****d via one of the effects mikes. Belfast scum. Still nil-nil).
Yes, Jamie's specs. He was okay with them for the first few minutes today. But then he started to rock his head from side to side in the style of Stevie Wonder which, if you think about it, is somewhat ironic given the fact he's wearing dark glasses.
Vanessa reckons he was simply trying to shake them off but, for my money, it was clearly a deliberate - and convincing - attempt at a Stevie impression. The boy's pool of talent and wit appears bottomless. Kind of.
(Nil-nil at half-time. Come on the Stripes).