Right you , behave yourself.
The Good Lady's voice boomed out from the doorway.
I fumbled with my phone, dropping it in my lap and looking up, startled at the interruption.
What?
I burbled out guiltily as if I had been caught taking photos of dogs bottoms again and posting them to Instagram under the tag #themanyfacesofgod.
The bloody phone. Off it, now.
The Good Lady had a face of thunder upon her and it looked like the storm was breaking.
What the hell was wrong with her? Off it? Like, kill it did she mean? How the fuck was I going to kill my phone? And why the fuck would I want to?
She had obviously gone full lockdown bonkers.
Um, what do you mean? Off my phone?
I said with a questioning air like a TV detective of old.
Your phone?! Off it! Come on, you are always on your phone these days. In fact, for the last few weeks, you have been on it constantly. It has got to stop.
She frowned at me like an 18th-century leper.
I am not!
I squawked indignantly.
You are. You and that bloody Steemit. Always scrolling and fannying about with it. Come on, behave yourself.
She waved a hand around as if she were the dough-hook in a gigantic invisible bread machine.
I smiled and put my phone down.
Hey hey, baby girl. Chill. It's all good. I can absolutely guarantee you, hand on my heart, that I hardly use Steemit these days. I am not spending all my time fannying about on Steemit. What do you take me for?
I put a little hurt into my voice and made my patented, Daddy hurt eyes.
Really?? You're not? Oh. Oh, right. Sorry. Yeah, you are probably looking at stuff about all this lockdown and stuff. Sorry. I should have realised.
The Good Lady backed off and headed to wherever Mad Mummy's go in a storm.
I chuckled.
Might be best not to mention Hive...
