Also he steals the duvet in his sleep so that I wake up in a freezing draught, although he denies this, claiming he doesn't move at all in his sleep whereas I thrash. And so it was that I woke up shivering at 5 AM, aching all over and head pounding. I moved to the lady's guest room (aka my dressing-room) and turned on the radiator full blast. I took two pills and did eventually get back to sleep.
When I woke up, it was 9:45 AM, and B.A. made me a cappuccino, so I forgive him for the duvet-stealing. Possibly I shouldn't be publishing my accusations, but the Archbishop of Edinburgh did suggest I write about marriage now.
Marriage involves a lot of minor territorial disputes but also not-so-random acts of kindness. I set up writing nooks in the flat, and B.A. carves out man caves. B.A. makes me cappuccinos, and I buy him bottles of beer. Technically we own everything in common, but he is in charge of the television and the radios. He leaves the latter on, and I turn them off.
Well, I don't think I am so ill that I can justify lying here when the flat needs cleaning and the laundry needs doing. Besides, I want to go to Polish class, and if I think I can make it to Polish class, then surely I can make it to the laundry room.
B.A. stories are far better than Barry stories!ReplyDelete
I do agree! :-DReplyDelete