Even though I'm thirty, my husband Paul still finds ways of making me feel a good couple of decades younger. He has taken to telling me off for a whole manner of ridiculous things that I am obviously not doing the correct 'Paul' way. I would like to share them with you and see what you think .
1) Slamming the car door. Apparently I have no concept of correctly shutting a door and every time I do it to his flipping car , it makes it depreciate even more. For the record, I don't slam it, I shut it firmly.
2) Indiscriminate Jam Buying. (I.J.B. for short) "Why is it," he says to me with an incredulous look on his face ,"That you need to buy a new jar of jam every time you go to the shops?" " But it's sugar free! " I bleat, "It's not like the other jams! You know I'm doing this sugar free diet..." " Helen, we've got more jars of jam than we have cupboard space.This has got to stop." and he stomps off to rearrange his toolbox. You know, the one with the fifty different kinds of the same screwdriver spilling out of it.
3) On a similiar subject, apparently you're not supposed to use the same knife you use for butter, in the actual jam jar. "It gets all bits in it." He says sternly. "It's dirty." I look crestfallen as I spread my sugar free jam. "But it's ok," he says, " I'll forgive you this time." Lucky me! "Just don't do it again." he warns.
4) We have two cats. It would seem that after stroking one of them one day, I took leave of my senses and popped a chunk of Galaxy in my mouth with the same hand I had stroked The Hoff (the black and white cat) with. Call Interpol! Call Kim and Aggie! I am a filthy , germ infested pig!
Clearly the fact that Anal Paul, the love of my life drinks milk straight out of the carton thus spreading his filthy diseases to me and anyone who comes round our house for a cup of tea is by the by.
Luckily I love him anyway. Quite a lot actually. Luckily for him I also don't care for one second what he thinks about all these things and he can tell me off all he likes because I know what happens when he's not there. I spread jams willy nilly, open new jars just for the hell of it, wipe my sticky hands all over the cat then lick them , slam all the doors and even....calm down everybody...even lick the knife. What an incredibly satisfying feeling. The beauty of it all is, he'll never even know! So I win after all!
No comments:
Post a Comment