Monday, Monday, just love that day

He came back from his walk on the Downs calm.  He did start drinking.  I’d shown him the spirits rack he so far ignored.  He didn’t drink spirits, he said, then did.  He was going to watch a late night film till three.  It was already two before I went to bed, switching the light off, but I remembered I hadn’t done my diary and got up again, soon putting on the light to see better what I was doing.  He switched the light off.  I asked him to put it back on.  He did, then off, then on, then off, then….  I lost my temper.  A whole stream of articulated anger got in the way of the diary-writing which included the incident as we rowed.  Basically his argument was that of his abusive parents to him, that the anger was mine to deal with, that I’d caused it.  Mine basically was he’d caused it.  He did admit to getting a rise out of me successfully.  That really helped me get to sleep!  He fell asleep imperturbably but did wake up again as I knew from the not snoring and his throwing some garment in my face which, I roughly checked, was not his pants but therefore his socks.  We were okay when we got up.  I said had he done that to his friends they would’ve thought him a wit like I was when I switched the shower on for him since he’d forgotten to, then off, then on, then off….  Funnier was his rapid wrapping of himself and his modesty in the shower curtain when I looked in the bathroom in response to something he said without any motive to catch him naked.  He’s such a girl.  “Do you do that with your male heterosexual friends?”

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About johnbrucecairns

I'm a retired history teacher who's written for most of his life with a book readied for publication.
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