OK--I'm plain old tuckered out--or knackered as we say in Britain :)
Hubby played poker last night. It has been a fun little evening get-together for about six guys from his work and they share a taxi, eat pizza, drink beer and each have a $20 stake at the start of the evening. Now this doesn't happen very often, and I feel like a very understanding wife because I'm glad he goes out and enjoys himself...can anyone else feel a BUT coming on?
I went to bed at 11.45 pm, foolishly having waited up for him. I had to search the house for intruders before I could sleep. Dog at my side, who just looked at me bewildered as I opened cupboard doors. I got to sleep pretty quickly after closing all the upstairs windows because I was chilly-oh and putting on socks and a long-sleeved jammy top for the same reason. And changing a diaper.
I heard scratching at 3 a.m. Hubby still wasn't home, but having had a dubious offering from the dog the night before, I went downstairs and let them out.
Back to bed. At 5 a.m. I heard the muffled sounds of a bad B&E. Hubby flopped into bed besides me, gave me a 100-proof whiff of kerosene breath and a vague kiss. "Hi, Honey." And asleep in 2.2 seconds. I could see the sun rising.
7 a.m. Dogs start whining. I leap out of bed, Hubby snoring, oblivious. Let them out before anything disgusting happened. Go back to bed. 7.30 a.m. Kids wake up.
Now, I generously got up and left Hubby to snooze till 10 a.m., then I told the kids to go get him up. Since then we had the Norwex party, the birthday party, the leaving do and now are finally home. I haven't written a word today--because rather than looking after the kids, hubby was recovering. Now if you all feel sorry for him that's fine. But this is MY blog and my moaning space so I just thought I'd share :)
He's giving me that slight frown--as if he can't quite work out why I'm pissed--and is slightly disappointed in me. I will survive.