So this is love...
You know, you never realise just how much water it takes to do a load of washing… until you see all of that water on the laundry floor on a Sunday afternoon. And spend an hour soaking it up. But the thing is, you really didn’t realise it the first time round, which is why it was necessary for you to get home after work on Monday and see the same amount of water on the laundry floor, only this time you weren’t home all day. This time it’s had six hours to soak into the carpet.
I was seriously so angry and upset last night (having got home early to cook a nice dinner for Steve and clean the house) that I yelled at the washing machine for a while before starting the second clean-up, using every towel in the house and some of the sheets, all of which I now need to wash again…
Anyway, Steve got home an hour later, changed his clothes and spent an hour with me jumping on towels to try and get the water up. Then I sat down in my work clothes on the sodden floor to blow-dry the carpet and bemoan my lost evening.
I was sitting there, utterly miserable, when Steve suddenly appeared with salt-and-vinegar chips and onion dip and sat with me on the smelly floor while we ate them. (I tried to make him go and relax after his day’s work, but “If we’re going to have a crap night, we’ll have a crap night together,” he said firmly.) Then he went to the supermarket to get dinner and came back with a block of verboten Caramello. “It’s only uneconomical when you buy it for yourself,” he explained. So I made a pot of tea and sat in the hall reading Vanity Fair, eating chocolate and blow-drying the carpet, and felt so much better it was absurd. Happiness is all about who’s in your corner… and if he happens to be holding salt-and-vinegar chips and onion dip and chocolate, I call that perfection.
I was seriously so angry and upset last night (having got home early to cook a nice dinner for Steve and clean the house) that I yelled at the washing machine for a while before starting the second clean-up, using every towel in the house and some of the sheets, all of which I now need to wash again…
Anyway, Steve got home an hour later, changed his clothes and spent an hour with me jumping on towels to try and get the water up. Then I sat down in my work clothes on the sodden floor to blow-dry the carpet and bemoan my lost evening.
I was sitting there, utterly miserable, when Steve suddenly appeared with salt-and-vinegar chips and onion dip and sat with me on the smelly floor while we ate them. (I tried to make him go and relax after his day’s work, but “If we’re going to have a crap night, we’ll have a crap night together,” he said firmly.) Then he went to the supermarket to get dinner and came back with a block of verboten Caramello. “It’s only uneconomical when you buy it for yourself,” he explained. So I made a pot of tea and sat in the hall reading Vanity Fair, eating chocolate and blow-drying the carpet, and felt so much better it was absurd. Happiness is all about who’s in your corner… and if he happens to be holding salt-and-vinegar chips and onion dip and chocolate, I call that perfection.