The Award for Least Popular Wife of the Year that is.
As you may have deduced, we have a blinkin' expensive August, followed by a starting-everyflippin'thing-again September which requires lots of sobbing cheque-writing at the worst possible time. If we had a cheque book that is. So I have been on a mission to be the most frugal good wife a striving self-employed man of ever-disappearing means could have. You know, I still haven't replaced my favourite dark green shimmery eye-shadow after the conjunctivitus adventures! THAT's how seriously I'm taking my spartan role.
But...... remember the car? The one I just popped into the garage about 2 weeks ago cos I thought the gears seemed a bit tricky. Well, IT'S READY! And with a service to get it through the MOT (unlike last year) to boot. Good news surely?
Bye bye last little penny in the jar. Bye bye credit card which is soon to be taken away by the nice people to save it from further abuse.
Hello car who isn't worth half as much money as you've just had spent on you. Hello soup. For the next 6 months.
Sod off Xmas. We shan't be needing your services this year.
Hello Freezer of Hate to which our children shall be sending us.
Or is that just me?
Bad Wife! Staaaaaaaay.......within your overdraft limit! DOH! Bad wife!!!!!!!!!!
Euuuuhhhhh....... Someone woke up after I'd got that far the other night and that was that. Abandoned ship. Dredged it up again tonight and had Mr GPants reading it over my shoulder.
'Hmmmmmn'
I think that counts as talking to me.
Five minutes later he came back in all perky. 'I splashed out on something we needed today. Have a look!'
(Oooohh what could it be? I'm all tits and teeth. Has be been in the back room at Ann Summers?)
It's a digital thermometer.
Point those nipples back to the floor.
'Will it work?' (We've had these damn things before. Never work.)
His own happy boy nipples also slump. I've said the wrong thing again. He walks out.
From the kitchen I hear 'You certainly know how to ruin someone's life!'
I can hardly breathe in between silent cackles but manage 'And the award goes to ME!!!'
And tearfully (yes I am sniggering that much), I remember all those songs I have murdered over the years for him with a subtle change of lyrics. That naff one about my dad's dead and I never spoke to him - 'In the living
'You make me feel like a natural
... what's that Bob Dylan one - oh yeah Sixteen Years - 'He
Ohh - my special favourite - Circles of Your Mind. No lyric change needed. Just a timely pause.... 'Like the ripples of a coin. Someone tosses in a stream'
Ah there's loads that I can't remember until we get a Daddy Special CD in the car. It's not map-reading in our marriage that's the problem. It's not giving due respect to Todd Rundgren.
Firstly I would like to thank my family for moulding my early consciousness into the mis-shapen freak-form jelly I have then had to work with all my life. Thanks you guys. And my darling children. What can I say? You have taken me places I would never have discovered alone. Like Ward 3. And finally my amazing talented beautiful husband, Mr GPants. Without you I would have no joy. Everyone needs a dog to kick. And you are the perfect panting mutt to my shiny wedgey knee-high.
Thank you all! I love you!! God loves you!!! God elp us Get me off this bloody podium you skankhead. I've got a as-yet unblemished exhaust pipe needs this trophy shoved up it. Get out of my way........
