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Carlos The Mexican Lodger
I was asked today if Husband had realised that I would be systematically humiliating him by blog when he said I do. After some thought I concluded that since he was unable to decipher my dulcet Welsh tones until a week last Monday, probably not. Its going to be an interesting day in the CrapWife household when he realises that what he assumed to be a traditional Welsh greeting was actually me telling him I used to be a man, in a broad Swansea accent.
My mood was utterly buoyant this morning, I found it easy to be happy when Husband unwittingly left fo
r work with a DVD stuffed with ham salad and a quid glued to a lemon (to buy Doritos with in case the DVD didnt fill him up.)
The mood however, was short lived. My animals are ruining my life. I know Ive already mentioned the dog
, but I dont think Ive brought up the cats- thats because 2 out of 3 of them hate me. All three cats are second hand,
we inherited two from friends, and the other one just turned up and never left. As per usual circle of life rules, the cats hate the dog, and the dog (being French) is terrified of the cats. This wasnt really a problem, until Carlo came to stay. Were now cat sitting and its the diplomatic equivalent of arranging a seating plan at a Welsh/English wedding during Six Nations Season.
I found a balance around midday where the cats had the conservatory and the dog stayed in the living room with me. About an hour in to this treaty, I notice that there is a lot less light in the conservatory than there used to be. The reason for this appears to be four large tom cats, previously unknown to my garden, sitting on its roof.
I now suspect that Carlos, the greasy Mexican lodger, is pimping out the girl cats. I cant say Im bothered, as long as I get a cut.Atext from the cats owner confirmed that yes; Carlos has been known to dabble in the gutter trades. Its obvious to me that his Bordello attitude is symptomatic of a traumatic early life experience. Im going to ring my mother and see if she can run a risk review and perhaps recommend a counsellingservice.
As if my day hadnt been frustrating enough, I am now 100% sure that Husband is toying with me.
This afternoon, while drinking a premixed Margarita that tasted like sweat,I received a text:
Deconstructed sandwich was a great idea, thanks babe. Cheers as well for putting a DVD in- managed to swap it with Dai for Paranormal Activity 2- we can watch it later? X
He didnt mention the lemon.
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That's the problem with modern technology, Margo, you just can't get as much filling in a DVD case as you would in the old video ones... Husband's a star, he's quite easy on the eye too
Many thanks for clearing up the sandwich question