You ask a question.
There was a note on the table when I eventually dragged my backside downstairs. I read it as I tried to wake myself up with a strong coffee.
The Mrs. had gone to work and, as I was having an unexpected day off, she had left a note. A short one which was, in actual fact, just a list of things that I was meant to have finished by the time she got home.
- Tidy away all the Christmas presents that I'd received and left lying on any flat surface.
- Put away the spare chairs that we had to pull out to seat everyone around the table on Christmas day (which I said I would do after the Christmas meal and conveniently forgot).
- and a few other little things
- Taking the dogs to the park
- Prepare the evening meal
- Walk the dogs in the evening
I'm sure there's other stuff too, but I'll be blowed if I can remember what they are, but I'm sure they're very important jobs.
Anyway, she came home and that's where the question comes in.
Any man feeling hard done by would probably ask the same question.
I met her when she came through the front door I immediately reeled off the list of jobs, each item punctuated with a sharp "Done"!
As she removed her coat and hung it on the hook behind the door she said "Well done"!
Then I asked it!
"So" I said. "Remind me. What is it you actually do around here"?
The silence was deafening, the room suddenly frosty.
Her stare nailed me firmly to the wall and held me there. She uttered no sound, she just slowly turned and walked passed me and up the hallway towards the kitchen.
We haven't talked for over an hour, but I think she's softening.
Well, she's stopped throwing plates, cups and saucers at me anyway.
I'm pretty sure that I'll be able to apologise in another hour or two without sustaining any life threatening injuries.
Pray for me!
* This is all made up because I would never have the nerve to ask her that question in the first place, but now you know what would happen if I ever did.