It's Friday evening and I'm still in the office, working late. Again. I've just spoken to Husband. I think that my dinner will be in the (imaginary) dog. I'm really tired, it's been a long week and we're working on a fault which apparently can't be fixed. Am feeling slightly hysterical. But, as one of my guys just pointed out, it's situations like this which define a team. Or some such rubbish.
So, it's Valentine's Day on Sunday. Husband and I have agreed that we're doing NOTHING as it's a ridiculous frenzy generated by the card industry and blah blah blah blah blah.
Of course, what Husband doesn't realise is that, if I don't get a card, he is a dead man. What am I saying, forget that, if I don't get flowers, he is a dead man. We've been married six years and this is the first time he's mentioned St Valentine's Day in this jaded and cynical way. What will be next? Our wedding anniversary? My God, my birthday?
It's because I've been working late, isn't it? It's because he's been at home, helping with homework, cooking dinner every night, washing the kitchen floor and hoovering the cat. He's normally very good at role reversal (apart from that incident with the Ann Summers fireman's outfit), but perhaps it's all gone too far. Perhaps it's time to go home and buy some flowers.
Right, am off to retrieve my dinner and make amends. Have a great weekend.
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