Ah, Sunday. Glorious Sunday. A day for relaxing. A day for staring at the walls and wondering where it all went wrong. A day for coffee and eggs but not lady-eggs. Oh no. They have caused enough trouble.
Should we take the bins in? I just noticed we forgot to yesterday.
The Good Lady interrupted my Sunday musings by frowning at the front window as if catching sight of one of her overwashed and tired grey bras making a run for it out of the front door.
I looked up resentfully from my coffee cup with narrowed slitty eyes.
The bins. Yeah, I will get them later.
I went back to staring at my phone and sipping my coffee.
Where was I? Ah yes. Sundays are a fine day. A day for nothing. A day for Hiving and jiving and perhaps the odd snicket of chocolate. A day for...
When was the last time we cleaned the fish tank?
The Good Lady's voice rang out stridently blatantly shitting on my Sunday parade.
I dunno, I think the last time you cleaned it was... let me think... Never?
Smugly, I congratulated myself on my debonair wit. It was a damned good job I wasn't at an Ambassador's party because no doubt a variety of thickly accented poshos would insist I deserved all of the Ferrero Roché.
We definitely need to clean it, it looks a little green.
She had marched over to said tank and peered into its murky snail and fish-ridden depths. Something inside glumped and shifted about in the murk.
I got out of my chair and quickly ran to her side, drawing her gently away from the thing that should not be that lurked within that tank.
Don't go near that.
I whispered lest it hear.
It's just a bloody fish tank, don't be such an arse.
She brushed me off and continued to pace about the house as if looking for a skateboard to Ollie on.
Aye aye, ok. I will clean the tank later. Jeez. Can I finish my coffee in peace?
I grunted grumpily as I sat back down like a Russian getting to the bottom of his bowl of pig foot stew.
The Good Lady stopped pacing and attempted to click her fingers which was a sad affair similar to someone rubbing two wet sticks together.
You know, maybe we should paint the bedroom today? We have been talking about it for ages.
She nodded happily.
Yes. That's it. We can paint the bedroom! What do you say?
She gazed down at me in delight.
I glowered back up at her and heaved myself to my feet once more so we were standing toe to toe.
Right you. What is all this 'we' pish?
I growled unhappily like a person who owns one of those hairless cats suddenly realising how horribly freaky they actually are.
Eh? What do you mean?
Hurt dripped from the Good Lady's voice.
You know exactly what I mean?!? Do you realise that when you say we you actually mean me? Can we do this, can we do that? Fucking hell, just ask me to do something straight out and not pretend it is some magical joint adventure when you want me to do something?
I stuck my bottom lip out like Johnny Depp when writing one of his text messages about the missus to his mates.
Alright, alright. No need to be so touchy.
She pouted before her lips quirked up in a smile.
Shall we drink some wine tonight?
She fluttered her eyelashes.
I gave her a flat look then rolled my eyes.
Yes, maybe we should have some wine tonight.
I smiled.
Good! We can have it after we take out the bins, clean the fish tank and paint the bedroom!
She laughed.
I glared after her as she tromped away.
Git.
Oh and that's right. I'm posting this on Monday because WE had so much to do yesterday. Sob!
