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Do You Feel Lucky?


Pix said to me last night "I'm going to be out until midnight tomorrow, so you'll be free to do whatever it is that you do when I'm not around"

Which... to be quite frankly honest, startled me somewhat. Avoiding the obvious conclusions one could draw about what a man does when he's alone in the house (oh come on, we're all adults here, yes, even you Mum) it made me wonder what she suspects I do.

Does she think I invite the local communists round to plot the downfall of the global capitalist economy? Does she think I conduct horrific experiments on small animals in a pressurised shoebox chamber of horrors? Does she think I invite the gay couple next door over and we sit discussing which Village People track is the best? Perhaps she suspects that I put on camoflage, army fatigues and run around the house with my secret stash of combat equipment, slashing at the sofa with my Fairbairn knife and blast the local squirrel population to pieces in aggressive squirts of white BB-pellet death.

In fact, short of writing this post I haven't even had time to think for myself what I do when she's not around. My brain has become hard-wired to the idea that if she's not within my visual field then I must either be at work or asleep.

Nope. Not asleep.

And since I just farted very loudly and nobody complained I can only conclude that I am not at work.

So what am I going to do? Firstly I'm going to do the dishes. Then I'm going to set a load of clothes washing and then finally I'm going to go through all of her bookshelves and remove certain books that I don't like and know she hasn't read and hide them in a box at the back of a wardrobe or cupboard somewhere. Then I'm going to go through her CD rack (which was segregated from my "pishy techno music") and switch the CDs from case to case. And then to top it all off I'm going to top up all of her facial cosmetics with mayonnaise.

But, D, you might be thinking, what if she reads this post?

Well, to you, my inexperienced reader and relationship-immature friend, I say that this is what makes life interesting: conflict.

And besides... maybe I'm bluffing.

Apr. 8.2003