It all started a few weeks ago. My first three times back to work I came home to find him in varying degrees of insensibility from drink. The third time was too much, so I was a bitch all evening and then turfed him out of bed to 'sleep' on the sofa. Reformed character...!
He then got slightly miffed when I mentioned that I was going to a Prom on the Friday of a BH weekend, so I said it was an opportunity for him to go out and get drunk, with my blessing, so he did, but declared this morning that he's not sure he wants permission.
I said, it's okay when we get pissed together, it's okay when he gets pissed by prearrangement and I can get on with my life, but it's not okay if we have an evening together planned, and I'm hanging round waiting for him and then he's insufferable, because that's then my evening ruined.
Saturday was Bobby's birthday. I was invited but not really my scene. Loads more I could do, more enjoyable, than being with that crowd, mainly men, not my friends, didn't think I would be really welcome despite the good manners and civility of people.
He got in just after midnight. Fell in through the door. I sent him to bed. As he staggered up the stairs, he said "Don't ever let me out again..." As an afterthought, "And if any women come knocking on the door, don't let them in, not even Paula..."
"I won't," I said. "Besides, I'm listening to Pl�cido...."
"I suppose that's allowed," he said.
I think I'm winning, don't you?
NB No cars were used in the crafting of this post...
Swimming in the morning.
Whatever morning means.
And swimming.
That will be a Bwhahahahaha moment!
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