A sign of how bad I was feeling about being totally let down in the marriage stakes, was when the kitchen draw was open. I noticed a letter out of the corner of my eye informing me, that Mr Beach House's life is insured for some $703,000, indexed for inflation. It worries me that for a nano second that prospect excited me.
Are you laughing yet???? Probably not!!!! OK I'll keep going then.
Now don't worry dear reader I have no plans to hit him over the head with a big shell. As I write this I have decided I like him again a tiny bit. He is very funny and can usually make me smile at something. I am also completely incapable of killing anything and I am not stupid. Of course I have motive, we are married afterall. Most of you would agree, that is motive enough. Not to mention opportunity, so I would be the first on the list of suspects if anything sinister should happen to him. The reality is that I would absolutely hate it if he wasn't around. One must be careful what one wishes for don't you think? But of course him not being around enough is the whole point of this post.
So here's a recap of how it got this low. On Saturday evening, Mr Beach House approaches me to announce he has sailing engagements the following day, there is very little discussion and the next morning he makes a clean break, leaving two very disappointed kids bouncing off the walls for yet another Sunday without their father. We got out amongst it as you can see from the photos but the fourth wheel was missing.
My attempt at a leave pass this weekend was not quite so successful. I had booked Mr Beach House up weeks in advance to look after the Beach House Brats on Saturday afternoon so I could have a long awaited lunch with my dad's old secretary, with whom I became pals. And here's what happened with that arrangement. The kids both have Saturday sports and unlike me, Mr Beach House is unable to juggle both activities calling in favours and the like. Consequently, I had reluctantly agreed to attend to the littlest one's swimming lesson, race with her from there, across town by 1.30pm for a late lunch. But there emerged a late window of opportunity, a slight possibility I could make a break on my own. The biggest Beach House Brat's sport was cancelled due to the poor weather, but there had been soccer photos locked in, so Mr BH had attended those and arrived home 10 minutes before the designated departure time for the littlest one's swimming lesson. He had brought a single dad and his kiddo back to eat their sausage sizzles at the Beach House and I suggested he gather up the littlest BHB, take her to swimming and let me escape for an afternoon without kids. 'Too hard' he cried. He was quite happy to look after her, but he couldn't be bothered with the expensive pre paid swimming lesson. He was more interested in settling in with his mate to watch footy than taking over the daddy day care duties at swimming and giving me a much deserved kid free afternoon. He always puts himself first and believe me I am learning from him.
I stopped doing his washing some years back now. My reasoning to him when he asked me what was going on was, 'So you get to go sailing all weekend and I get to do your washing'....No deal baby!!!! All this wet weather is playing havoc with his wardrobe....We don't have a dryer so most of it has been on this line for a week. He managed to get it in yesterday, shoved his wrist under my nose and announced, 'See it doesn't smell too bad'. I had to agree the week of rain rinsing had had very little negative effect.
|Breakfast out with Mr Beach House's credit card|
|A gorgeous lunch over looking the city|
|Palm Beach from the Bible Garden|
Today I am linked here