enforced celibacy
"Oh. shit", I said, and he looked at me with distinct pissyness.
"What? I thought you liked my mother".
"Honey, YOU don't like your mother. Why inflict that label on me?" He shot me a horrible look, and stomped off into the kitchen, making unnecessary amounts of noise banging cupboards and the like, looking for all the world like a bad drag queen at closing. Its the glitter nail varnish that'll do it.
His mother is coming to stay with him. For 11 days. I honestly can't see what I've done to deserve this, I really don't, but it's having a negative impact on my mental health already. He's been given three days to prepare for her visit, which means cleaning out all the leftover pizza from the fridge, no more takeout food- something that indirectly means he'll have to learn to cook, and also she would appear to be expecting to sleep in his, or, more recently and fabulously, our bed. This would be the bone of contention. Is it bad manners to leave her alone in his flat at night while he comes home with me? Or turn the music on and make her sleep out on the couch?
This is, incidentally, the woman who's shoes I may, in all likelihood, have thrown up on at J's sisters wedding. Fuck. Do I owe her, considering these were nifty Gina shoes?
EDIT: She's just rung, to discuss "the final arrangements". To his credit, J did warn her I'm willing to defend my sleeping privileges to the first broken nail- not in those words, clearly, as she is a Proper Lady, and once told me off, in a very thorough manner, for corrupting her sons morals. Honestly. She doesn't seem to realise they were well on their way to full "corruption" before we began living in sin.
Anyway, if I'm honest and I try to be, I can't think of anywhere else to stash her as we can't really expect her to sleep on the couch, especially in a flat full to bursting of students. Admittedly less so than my own fabulous home, but full enough.
RE-EDIT: I've given in- predominantly due to the overwhelming sense of guilt that cripples me occasionally, when I think of the death of those shoes; shoes I might have, incidentally, inherited on her death, as his sister is, quite frankly, huge, in every sense of the word, but this happily includes her feet. But anyway, the womans having the bed, something bound to initiate an eleven day long foul mood.
"What? I thought you liked my mother".
"Honey, YOU don't like your mother. Why inflict that label on me?" He shot me a horrible look, and stomped off into the kitchen, making unnecessary amounts of noise banging cupboards and the like, looking for all the world like a bad drag queen at closing. Its the glitter nail varnish that'll do it.
His mother is coming to stay with him. For 11 days. I honestly can't see what I've done to deserve this, I really don't, but it's having a negative impact on my mental health already. He's been given three days to prepare for her visit, which means cleaning out all the leftover pizza from the fridge, no more takeout food- something that indirectly means he'll have to learn to cook, and also she would appear to be expecting to sleep in his, or, more recently and fabulously, our bed. This would be the bone of contention. Is it bad manners to leave her alone in his flat at night while he comes home with me? Or turn the music on and make her sleep out on the couch?
This is, incidentally, the woman who's shoes I may, in all likelihood, have thrown up on at J's sisters wedding. Fuck. Do I owe her, considering these were nifty Gina shoes?
EDIT: She's just rung, to discuss "the final arrangements". To his credit, J did warn her I'm willing to defend my sleeping privileges to the first broken nail- not in those words, clearly, as she is a Proper Lady, and once told me off, in a very thorough manner, for corrupting her sons morals. Honestly. She doesn't seem to realise they were well on their way to full "corruption" before we began living in sin.
Anyway, if I'm honest and I try to be, I can't think of anywhere else to stash her as we can't really expect her to sleep on the couch, especially in a flat full to bursting of students. Admittedly less so than my own fabulous home, but full enough.
RE-EDIT: I've given in- predominantly due to the overwhelming sense of guilt that cripples me occasionally, when I think of the death of those shoes; shoes I might have, incidentally, inherited on her death, as his sister is, quite frankly, huge, in every sense of the word, but this happily includes her feet. But anyway, the womans having the bed, something bound to initiate an eleven day long foul mood.
posted by Imogen @ 1:29 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home