Saturday, 14 February 2015
I'm in the dog house
For all you non brits, that's a euphemism for I'm so deeply in trouble with my wife that it's unlikely I'll ever get another smile from her. My heinous crime? Perhaps leaving something switched overnight and burning the house down? Running over the cat? Or how about that old faithful, not making the bed when I got up? Always a sure way of annoying she who must be obeyed. No I didn't do any of that; and not once in thirty years have I left the lavatory seat up after using it. Counts for nothing!!
No, I committed none of the above wretchedness. It was more a case of what I didn't do. I think you know where this is going.
Curiously, I always seem to forget those anniversaries the fairer sex seem to find so important. "Sorry, darling for not remembering that this is the 9,850th day since we met - happy anniversary." After more than thirty years of marriage I still don't know how women remember such stuff, thus I have absolutely no idea what was playing on the radio at the very moment of our introduction in Jun ????????1983 ish. She does.
For the life of me; and it might just be for the life of me; I don't remember the colour of the bikini she wore on our first date. I do remember the expression on her face as she fell into the water at about thirty knots when her water ski snapped. I remember that very well - and my heroic self control in not laughing, especially as she never found the top half again.
No, my crime of the century, after battling a thousand car born maniacs on my way home from work, then doing the weekly shop before feeding the cats whilst she and my daughter were out at the stable comparing Uggs or something equally crucial, then tidying away the dead rodents from the patio courtesy of my daughter's two feline godzillas, was an absolute brain freeze when it came to buying or making a valentine's gift for my beloved.
The clattering of dustbin lids and the distant yowl of the neighbours dog suggests that her displeasure is here to stay for a few days. And as for getting my laundry done in the next decade- well I think you can guess the answer to that.
I'm such scum.