My lovely man is of great support to me and does many (read all), of the household chores.
Don’t you want one? Get your own, this one’s mine.
He often uses my little car to run around in. It’s a ‘fuel saver’ vs a ‘ gas guzzler’.
The other morning we were having our pre-walk morning cuppa (and choccie biscuit) and he announced. ‘ I don’t think I took the shopping out of the car yesterday, let me check’.
I’m sure it’s all fine he continued a little later… I’ve put the chicken in the freezer, all good.
Darling, I said, I don’t think that’s clever, shouldn’t we throw that chicken away?
It’s for the dogs he said, I’m sure it will be fine. (I, of course, would take a bullet for my dogs, so this is NOT fine really).
I don’t get to drive my car, or any car very often. My lovely man is the designated driver as a rule. When we first started dating, he was very complimentary of my driving. Now that the honeymoon is over there are any number of suggestions, instructions, and pleas to Jesus for help when I drive.
But I had occasion (read boozy girls lunch), to go out by myself and lowered myself into my car and trundled off.
On my return, I asked my lovely man if it was my car that he had used when he went shopping and left the chicken in the car.
Yes, I think so, he said, it’s easier to park, why do you ask?
Because, darling, my car smells like something has died in it.
So now, not only do we have to empty the freezer of any chicken so that no-one in the household dies, I also have to sell or perhaps set alight my car.
Perhaps you can have him after all.