I’ve missed you. It has been three days since my last confession…….
The (last part of the) week that was:
The husband returns with a bottle of champagne, roses, a mini boom box, a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye and a gift from THAT shop in Paris. We open a bottle each and have a civilised catch up.
Camera 1 – same scene, five hours on – this shot would capture dancing in the kitchen, an ultra eye twinkle and a few more empty bottles
Camera 2 – bedroom scene – two hours on – this shot would capture……………wouldn’t you like to know?! Actually, in reality, this shot would capture the beginning of the drunken misunderstanding. The beginning of much to-ing and fro-ing from the bedroom ‘and another thing (or sching in this case)’ . I was two bottles behind him and was now very tired and VERY sober. I stayed in bed. He stomped around the house in protest of? I have no idea. I think he didn’t either. But he felt very strongly about ‘it’ all the same.
7.00 a.m. ALARM. WAKEY WAKEY. Except that I am already awake as I didn’t go to sleep.
and so the day begins
it’s my turn for the toddler group. SHIT! I have visions of peepee/ca-ca toilets that need to be cleaned and the remains or rather damning evidence of our Party of Two.
And once I get that sorted out, the toddler group stand me up!!!!!!!! Entre nous, I’m relieved. The still drunk husband is snoring on the sofa…..
I continue to chase my tail for a while and don’t get very far with the house and jobs. In the meantime, the Prodigal needs to get ready for his first day of Coiffure School in a big(ish) town, 30/40 mins drive from here. I nag, he ignores me and 5 mins before we leave, he still isn’t ready.
The Drunk one is starting to sober up.
The Fatty is grumpy and now I realise I will have to kill three hours with him in a soft play cafe whilst we wait for the Prodigal to finish as it’s not worth my while (and petrol) getting home and going back.
SOFT PLAY – there aren’t many words put together, that make my heart and spirit sink as much as those two. Good job I’m not tired or hungover…..
Back home (via the supermarket – AGAIN – another bad queue, I lose my credit card, the queue does a collective sigh, the cashier begins to dismantle the check out till to look for it, the Prodigal looks like he wants to curl up and die when I say loudly ‘i HAVE to find that card and no, Prodigal, I am not just going to leave and cancel it once I’m home, thanks for the (shite) advice.’) the house is chaotic as I left the Husband and four unsupervised kids, make that the unsupervised Husband and four kids and a dog to leave things where they fall.
WE HAVE TO INTERRUPT THIS SERVICE DUE TO UNFORESEEN CIRCUMSTANCES (the kids and husband are back).
and I didn’t even get onto the flatulent guest.
Until next time.
But what was the sching that was lost? And why were you stood up? *edge of seat*
Outlier Babe said:
And you didn’t even get to the flatulent guest. You are truly wicked. And clever. Nice job, that.
Why, merci Outlier Babe. And yep, most times the title of the post has NOTHING to do with what I’m writing about; ALL of the time, I write without editing.
It is my finest thrown-together-without-a-thought piece of work I’ve eve done…….along with the kids.
Outlier Babe said:
I laughed aloud again. Especially remembering that reference to same as “demons”.