I was asked today if Husband had realised that I would be systematically humiliating him by blog when he said ‘I do’.  After some thought I concluded that since he was unable to decipher my dulcet Welsh tones until a week last Monday, probably not.  It’s going to be an interesting day in the CrapWife household when he realises that what he assumed to be a traditional Welsh  greeting was actually me telling him ‘I used to be a man’, in a broad Swansea accent.

My mood was utterly buoyant this morning, I found it easy to be happy when Husband unwittingly left for work with a DVD stuffed with ham salad and a quid glued to a lemon (to buy Doritos with in ca

se the DVD didn’t fill him up.)
The mood however, was short lived.  My animals are ruining my life.  I know I’ve already mentioned the dog, but I don’t think I’ve brought up the cats- that’s because 2 out of 3 of them hate me.  All three cats are second hand, we inherited two from friends, and the other one just turned up and never left.   As per usual circle of life rules, the cats hate the dog, and the dog (being French) is terrified of the cats.  This wasn’t really a problem, until Carlo came to stay.  We’re now cat sitting and it’s the diplomaticequivalent of arranging a seating plan at a Welsh/English wedding during Six Nations Season.
I found a balance around midday where the cats had the conservatory and the dog stayed in the living room with me.  About an hour in to this treaty, I notice that there is a lot less light in the conservatory than there used to be.  The reason for this appears to be four large tom cats, previously unknown to my garden, sitting on its roof.
I now suspect that Carlos, the greasy Mexican lodger, is pimping out the girl cats.  I can’t say I’m bothered, as long as I get a cut.  A text from the cat’s owner confirmed that yes; Carlos has been known to dabble in the gutter trades.  It’s obvious to me that his Bordello attitude is symptomatic of a traumatic early life experience.  I’m going to ring my mother and see if she can run a risk review and perhaps recommend a counselling service.
As if my day hadn’t been frustrating enough, I am now 100% sure that Husband is toying with me.
This afternoon, while drinking a premixed Margarita that tasted like sweat, I received a text:


Deconstructed sandwich was a great idea, thanks babe. Cheers as well for putting a DVD in- managed to swap it with Dai for Paranormal Activity 2- we can watch it later? X 🙂

He didn’t mention the lemon.
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