A very dull week
The rest of the week holds not much in store but the day out with the girls had been such fun that work was bearable. The usual mini crises with my adorable but chaotic children. Daughter has lost both her passport and birth certificate which makes the possibility of us going on holiday in the foreseeable future diminish rather. She has no clue how to sort it out; I refuse to do it for her and explain what she must do to organise new ones. I suggest that she perhaps takes more care of her possessions and try not to return home from alcoholic nights out minus such important items. As usual the advice doesn’t go down well! Son has signed up for a video game design course and is wondering whether he made a mistake. Asking if he investigated the course thoroughly before signing up and handing over money again is not taken well. I try to remember whether at their age I was as resistant to taking advice as my children appear to be and whether I knew as much as they seem to.
Wednesday: Home from a busy day at work I try to avoid comparing my neighbour’s immaculate garden to my weed ridden mess and push aside the voice telling me to spend the evening gardening. A girlfriend rings and by the time we have gossiped our way through my first drink of the evening, gardening is not an option. She asks if I still annoyed with Mr N and, spookily, just as she asks the question, a text comes through from him. I finish the conversation with my girlfriend and, cursing the annoying man for not staying in his box, reply to the text. Almost immediately I receive another, this time from G, home from his travels, he is looking forward to seeing me and suggests we meet for dinner. The next hour is shared between texts from G and Mr N at the end of which I have agreed to see Mr N the following evening and have dinner with G on a date when I’m next in London. I tell myself that there is plenty of time to cancel dinner and of course I will do it very gently.
Thursday morning I feel in a positive frame of mind and decide to tackle some jobs around the house. Text from Mr N, followed by a multimedia message. Nothing naughty, just showing his newly toned physique, after all this time it would seem a little pointless sending pics of a part of his anatomy with which I am extremely familar.
By 10pm it is obvious that the pic is the only thing I am going to see of Mr N, I am not amused. I know exactly what the scenario will have been – sport – bar – obvilion! but am not trying to make excuses.
Friday evening having dinner with a girlfriend I tell her that Mr N has now dropped into the relegation zone and I will certainly not be cancelling dinner with G planned for a future weekend. Still no word from Mr N and I decide that I am worth more than being ignored by someone so pathetically useless. Saturday is an extremely busy day helping a friend cater for a lunch party she is giving on Sunday so I concentrate on my cooking.
By Sunday morning Mr N is a distant memory as I tell my friends at the lunch party. For some reason they are decidedly sceptical saying they’ve heard it all before. I assure them I mean it this time. I enjoy the party but because I am driving drink only mineral water and watch the rest of the party become increasingly animated and sort out all the worlds problems over large amounts of red wine.
Back home I pour my first drink of the day, settle down for an evening of TV and then get the inevitable text ……….
By Ms Naughty
