DH and I have had an upper and downer (that's Gloucester for a row). I merely pointed out to him that it would be have been nice if he'd rung me from the supermarket where he had gone to buy some fruit for himself on his way back from Friday night's rugby practice and then I could have given him the list that I had which would have made life easier on all of us and we wouldn't have run out of milk, bacon, orange juice and bread for Saturday morning's breakfast. Perfectly reasonable complaint you would think.
He hasn't spoken to me since and he pointedly leaves the room whenever I come into it. Alright, I admit, voices were raised, and maybe it was a mistake to point out that rugby isn't as important as he thinks it is, and that there are other considerations. None of it was helped by the fact that Dear Son (16) rather tactlessly asked where the orange juice was.
Another thing might have been that when I took Dear Daughter (11) to her art class yesterday afternoon, I accidentally locked them all out. It still tickles me to think of Dear Son (16) climbing in through Dear Son (14)'s bedroom window using a long ladder. I bet DH was spitting feathers. It's a shame he's not speaking to me, we could have a good laugh! Shows how easy it would have been for the burglars to do the same, good job there aren't any in France.
Silence may be golden, but I'm feeling lonely in a houseful of people now. He's capable of keeping this up for days, I'm not. Now I remember why I rarely rise to the bait, it's easier to just say nowt. Aah well, at least I'll get the ironing straight!
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