We had friends up over the weekend. They were mine. Tim and Lisa. Tim, Jerry and I were friends at school, they'd been mates since they were in infant school together (so from about five) whereas I got to know them very late on by comparison around the age of twelve. We stayed as a group through to Sixth Form and then stayed in touch after we all went to University. Tim was the first of us to marry and remains the only one without children. Tilly and Lisa get on really well, and Lisa also happens to be the godparent for our daughter.
|It's a bit like this - you pay for feed and feed their stock, not|
like a petting zoo.
So far so normal, right?
|It was like this I guess. South African.|
This began a tirade of anger from Tilly. Claiming that I'd called her drunk and loud (I had done nothing of the sort) and basically attacking me. She then started crying. Okay, I know she was drunk, but I wasn't really prepared for that. Also, and without going into details, much of what she said pushed my buttons, my 'oh shit I'm crap' buttons. This got me thinking a lot about the handcuffs I had in storage and wondering about liberating them for personal use - I can't claim to be logical either.
|Oh, hey, it's been a while, y'know?|
|We are lucky. Woods like this are right on our doorstep|
and the weather was nice. No rain like what we've had
on and off for a month or so...
On returning home I get an e-mail on the iPad from work that put me in a bit of a spin but with an attachment that wouldn't open on that device. Tim was showing videos to the kids on my laptop at this point, having borrowed it to check up on his facebook whilst I made lunch - you can see how much talking we'd managed by this point. I borrowed the laptop back and the daughter melts down again because she wants to see a video. She needed a nap. I ham-fistedly try to get her to take one, but a combination of feeling crap and the work e-mail make me jump all wrong and I end up getting angry instead. It does not end well. Tilly and Lisa misread the train timetable and need to be picked up so Tim goes to do that, leaving me with both of them and a general feeling of gloom.
I skipped lunch.
|The chinchilla... Okay, no, just a chinchilla. Looks like|
ours though. No, ours chews his feet.
None of this was helped by the references Tim made to the amount of sex married couples have. He was trying to make light and imply that he and Lisa aren't doing it very often, but finding it fun. It just reminded me that his once a week, which is so terrible, is light years away from my last doing it in July last year.
So, feeling shit and planning to try some light self-bondage to compensate I retired to the sofa, it doesn't last long - can't have marks for going back to work y'see. Not that I have some seriously normal issues or anything. I almost wish Tilly and I had had a row on the Friday, it would have been a damn' sight more worthwhile than not having spoken to her for a day and being frozen out of conversation because I wasn't a female or sober.
Warned you right there at the start.