Am trying to be v. patient, compassionate & understanding.
Am trying, but failing. True nature of impatient harpy won't tolerate Stepford Wife behaviour, no matter how hard brain tells me it's a good tactic.
Poor OH is in pain. Has been since our home decorating marathon at the weekend (must have pulled a muscle watching me paint - can't be anything else as he just faffed about for a day and a half with 'prepatory work'). Now he's taking every opportunity to remind me of his lumbar agony.
Sheesh! Good thing men don't get pregnant! Or periods.
Meanwhile, revamped room stands in suspended animation waiting for covers to be put back on light switches & plugholes, and painted cupboard doors screwed back in place. Dare to express humble opinion that I can do it, but OH comes over all masterful and manly to insist I can't possibly do it and so must wait for him.
Oh goody, the Waiting Game. My favourite.
Looks like we'll be weaving our way past cupboard doors waiting in hall til Christmas. Gaah!
In flood of pre-programmed guilt, realise that I am clearly a heartless harridan who should not be allowed within screeching distance of poor, sensitive, well-meaning menfolk.
(But at least I get things done).
Never mind, will wait for OH to disappear and get on with it.
(Imagines triumphant "ta-da!" as OH walks in to find cupboards ready and lightswitches covered - tries to ignore inevitable liturgy of what done wrong and why should have waited).
Sometimes, it pays to be a little bit of a bitch...
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Beware! I always suspect 'injurys' to be the best way of saying 'you do this dear I'll put my feet up.' You have been warned!
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