Oh Boy… Santa what were you thinking?

So, another Christmas has come and gone. We put the tree up late.  We wrapped the gifts a day before, and were forced to listen to our over-excited 9 year old pacing the passage all Christmas eve long.  I think I may have fallen asleep at approximately 04h00 and she was still playing in the dark, in her bed (like I could let her prowl the house alone?!)

Off course, we were kicked out of bed at about 07h00, at the in-laws at 09h00. Yikes.  By 11h00, Casey reverted to a demonic state from exhaustion, testing the theory that parents love their kids too much to kill them.

After the obligatory eat-as-much-as-humanly-possible and slave labour that is part and parcel of the Christmas clean up, the necessary nap out of the way… guess what I had to do? Play a TV game.  Yip. PLAY A TV GAME (well, playstation, but hey, tv is tv, right?)

Waldo bought me a beautiful cover for my ipad, which is exactly what I wanted. He also happened to buy me a Playstation game.  Now don’t get me wrong, I love games, but not when I have something else to do.  So here I am, reading my awesome book which has me sitting on the edge of my seat, when Waldo comes into the lounge and asks: “Aren’t you excited to start playing your game?” His hopeful expression has me ashamed, so off course, I put the book aside, pretend I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how the playstation works and asks for his help with getting the game started. (This is the perfect excuse for not ripping the thing open and starting right away, off course)

Even more impressed with himself for helping me out, he sticks around for over an hour while I play, when he finally disappears into the computer room, I finish the scene, shut off the game and continue with my book.  He comes out again and looks so disappointed that I’m not playing anymore.  I come up with a lame excuse of, I feel tired and my eyes need a break.  (I can’t believe he fell for that!)

The next day, I’m sitting, reading the next book in the series when he comes out of the computer room,”I thought you were playing your new game? If you’re not playing…” This folks, means he means to play another section of Uncharted 3.  Which is AWESOME. So I paste on this look of *damn, but first come first serve* “I just wanted to finish this chapter, but if you wanted to play… I can play when you’re done” I’ve been able to get away with not playing for two days… Guess I’m going to have to come up with new excuses or just finish the bloody game. *Sigh*

Marriage

Being married can be tough on one’s sanity.  Being married to my husband is to have lost one’s sanity and being married to me is to never have had it.

Married couples argue and disagree on almost everything; I think this is, because after a while, it’s actually kind of fun. In our case, we don’t often disagree, but when we do… oh boy.

How the argument started remains a mystery, but we ended up arguing over… would you believe it… possessions.

When we got married we literally had nothing except a few small items that moved over from our respective bedrooms.  We received a dilapidated mismatched lounge suite from a kind relative and built up from there. Today, we have a whole house furnished with great appliances, comfy couches and a bed that is to die for. We did this together. So we were off course arguing over who is responsible for our success of today. Hmmm.

To understand how this is possible, I will need to explain our financial arrangement.  I pay for consumables and he pays for larger items such as TV, bed, washing machine etc. So his logic is that he is responsible for all the items in the house, and that they belong to him.  So he doesn’t feel bad that he has a top notch gaming pc because after all, it’s not the latest and greatest. Yeah whatever dude.

My point is that I paid for the food that has kept him alive for the past 9 years, therefore, he wouldn’t even have been alive except for me. The argument was off course far more extensive, but the gist of it was that I (we women can be wonderfully manipulative, don’t you agree?) feel that he doesn’t think I’m good enough because he buys permanent fixtures (and buys himself wonderful toys) and I just buy food and boring stuff and had to cut back on buying shoes (Oh, I remember, the argument started because I bought four pairs of shoes – in one month *cringe*)

So off course he caved (I can be brilliant with manipulation when I want to be *waggles eyebrows*) and we had an uncomfortable peace for a few days before he randomly says (whilst cooking *waggles eyebrows*) that he thinks I should get a toy of my own. He wants to buy me an ipad 2.

My point is this: It’s a bribe! I am NOT bribable!

I’m getting it this week! Whoop!

The significance of bacon

My colleagues approach me with the single sentence: We’re all hungry. You might wonder why they would tell me of all people, but it is quite simple. No one loves food more than I.  NO ONE.

We work across the street from a busy mall (shoe-shopping – every lunchtime!  What a pity it’s mostly “window” shoe shopping, with the occasional (read: all the time) fondling) and all the restaurants have a breakfast going for R20.00 a pop.  Three rashers of bacon, two eggs, toast and chips. What a deal.

Grabbing my handbag, I dash over and grab one for each colleague.  My hubby works in the same building as I, so off course, I get him something too.  Instead of grabbing the R20.00 breakfast for him, I take a toasted sandwich, containing bacon and eggs with a much smaller side portion of chips for an additional R8.00. So the exact same thing in a smaller portion that is more expensive.

Why, do you ask? Well, because I love him… okay, it’s because the fuss he makes when he doesn’t get food that is easy to eat out of one hand is so not worth saving 8 bucks.

As I sit eating my delicious breakfast (at my desk off course) another colleague comes into our department, casually asking me how I am.  I’ve never heard anything so idiotic in my life.  How am I?!

I’m having bacon you schmuck. I’m great!