Well chance would be a fine thing! Take last night - I trot off for my sleepover at 11.30pm and after a go at the Sudoku and a perusal of the news I drift off to sleep....
To be rudely awakened by the fire alarm. Get up, liaise with night worker, soothe ruffled feathers of clientele then back to bed where I drift off to sleep....
Brrrng! Brrrng! Night worker calls the sleepover flat to let me know that the PSNI want to transfer some noisy ruffian from their cosy cells to us. No vacancies. Try again tomorrow. I sleep....
To be jolted awake at 3.30am by that boom-boom noise that passes for music among the cloth-eared. I investigate its source and complain and am assured it will be turned off. I then toss and turn, try to ignore the slamming doors and loud conversations, worry about 'my' washing machine rental agreement, seethe a bit then finally fall asleep.
Then I got up and worked for eight solid hours.
Then I went home to find that Bert had not lifted a spoon for over 25 hours. I decided not to nag him.
Then a perfect opportunity presented itself. In a conversation about petted children Bert decries Swisser's boys as hopelessly spoiled because they wouldn't even wash a dish.
So did I continue to hold my tongue? Not on your Nelly.
Bert's excuse. He didn't know what all the stuff in the sink was. This was because a lot of it was Pearlie's sundae dishes, lemonade sets, ornamental glassware and other such foolishness rescued from the sheds. I'd been working on the Herculean task of washing it the previous day before I left for work.
So I told him what the stuff in the sink was. It was bloody dirty dishes - that's what it was.
Then I washed all the dishes and stupid Pearlie stuff so that I could donate it to Laura's carboot sale and while I doing this Bert went off on a jaunt to help Clint choose a new cock. I asked them to bring me back a bantie but they didn't.
I will post pictures of Clint's new cock before the weekend. According to Bert it's gorgeous!