Sunday, September 18, 2005

Sunday afternoons

No matter how hard I try I could never be butch. Not by putting on my paint splattered jeans and heading off to the DIY superstore. Not by arguing with a 4x4 driver in the DIY store carpark. Not by saying "no darling, you put the kettle on while I finish off the ceiling". Not by ignoring the visitors in order to get the walls finished. The result of trying is blisters on my hands, red skin from trying to scrub the paint off and my arms are aching so badly it's all I can do to lift the glass to my lips. And the worst part is - no matter how appreciative the wife is, I just won't have the energy!

Then again, I'm not quite so 'femme' either. This is from a recent conversation;
WIFE: You could wear your pink dress for the party
ME: Nooo, do I have to?
WIFE: laughs

Black trousers it is then!

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