Philippa had a go at me this morning, which was just what I needed with a thumping hangover. Apparently I didn’t pay her enough attention on Saturday night, and I took advantage of her hobbling state to be away from her and flirting with bar staff.
Her ‘hobbling state’ by the way is nothing to be concerned about. She had her appointment at the hospital this week (which I, as a good loyal boyfriend, accompanied her to) and after X-rays and scans and a good old feel from a specialist she was told “It’s nothing serious. You’ve upset the ligaments but it doesn’t need any treatment. Just rest it and try not to be impatient.”
I would have thought that was good news, but not according to Philippa. She’s angry and upset because they didn’t say exactly what she wanted, and being a spoilt child she’s reacting badly, and most of that anger and upset is being directed at me. So this morning I said something like “I’m not the one who injured you, and I’m not the one who told you to rest it, so stop treating me like the bad guy just because you didn’t get exactly what you wanted from the hospital”
I may have also called badminton “that stupid sport for lesbians” at some point, but I’m not sure.
Anyway, I took her out for a late roast dinner by way of apology, and while we were there some bastard reversed into TheLoveMachine and drove off without saying anything, so I now have a dent in the driver’s door.
So now we’re both in a bad mood.
Tomorrow I’m working the early shift (5am start, but paid double-time and a day off in lieu, thank you very much) then I’m settling down with Ted to watch the World Snooker Final. Ted may be moody at times, but at least he’s not obsessed with his own ankles, and he’s unlikely to reverse into me while we’re sitting on the sofa, so hopefully I’ll have a better day…
RC 6-5-12
No comments:
Post a Comment