Crap Wife
Timeline
blog
forum
Crap Wife


 

Recently Rated:

Stats

Blogs: 28
 

Blog

Crap Wife » Blog
default: 28

PLEASE HELP TO SUPPORT CRAPWIFE BY VISITING AND COMMENTING AT www.crapwife.com

The blogging blackout is finally over and My God I'm glad. Given that I don't do yoga, zumba or ganja, blogging is my only release. These last few days of inactivity have been torture. Instead of quietly blogging away and letting off steam, I have been gagged bytechnologyand Husband has irritated me to the extent that I've spent a week researching bear traps online.

It's been a really shit few days.
Husband is ill; He thinks he has the flu, I think it's a cold because if it was the flu he wouldn't be putting up martyr shelves in the hope of a sympathy shag.

If I so much as roll my eyes when he groans, sighs or sniffles he's straight on my case telling me 'it's dangerous to underestimate serious illnesses.' He claims that I taught him this last week, but I don't remember. He looks smug when he says it and I wonder if he's taking the piss.
He's right though. I should definitely should take his sickness more seriously. I decide to help diagnose him.
'Husband, are you cold?'

'Babe, I have flu, I'm boiling.'

Not hypothermia, then.

'Can you stand on up without pain?'

He can, so his legs aren't broken. I'm at a bit of a loss.

'Don't worry, Husband, I'll look up your symptoms on the internet.'

' DO NOT look up medical stuff on the internet. Stay away from WebMD. I forbid you.'
While flicking through WebMD I unearth a startling discovery.
'Don't do that face!'

'What face?' I ask.

'Your startling discovery face. You don't have whatever you think you have and you're not dying- don't start this again.'
Husband is being overly dramatic because I last year I wrongly diagnosed myself with prostate cancer and got a bit upset. It was ONE time and it's an easy mistake to make.
I tell him that this was ONE TIME and that he's a pleb.
'Babe, only last week you thought you caught hypothermia from the paddling pool...'
I'm too stunned to speak. It's worse than I thought. I have no idea what he's talking about. Husband is delusional already.
'What's that on your neck?' I ask him.

'A shaving spot' He's looking at me with suspicion.
'You've got that look in your eye. What have you read? Whatever it is, you don't have it, you won't get it and you're not dying- do not get the WebMD'noids, I can't be arsed with it, I've got the flu.'

He hasn't got the flu.

And he just called me paranoid. It's probably the fever talking.
I gaze lovingly at Husband for a full four minutes before he gets annoyed and goes to bed. I will miss him when he's gone.

Two hours into his coma I take him a bowl of herb soup.
'What's this and why have you got a tea towel over your face?' he asks, without as much as a thank-you.

'Protecting my face from hayfever.' he's too weak for the truth.

'Why is therepot-pourrioutside the bedroom door?'

'Because you smell.'
Husband doesn't question this, he knows that I think that men smell of poo. I bought some honey and almond showergelrecently and now he smells like someone shit on a toblerone.
Husband staggers downstairs after a 4 hour coma; I set off the bell sound effects app on my iPhone to alert the neighbours he's on the move.

'What are you doing? Why are you wearing your funeral dress?' he asks ( I suspect the end is near so I changed earlier to save time.)
'Why are you burning incense? It smells like a fucking opium den in here. Why have you turned the phone bill into a pot-pourri cone?'
I read online that in the 1400's burned incense and inhaled herbs to prevent infection.

'Why is there a red cross on the back door? How the fuck am I going to get that off.......?'
I haven't the heart to tell him that such things won't matter in the afterlife.

'Oh my fucking God. You're pretending I've got the Plague. Stop it. Be normal. Stop pretending I have the bubonic plague.'
I can't hear him because I'm deep in prayer.
'Wife, seriously- stop chanting, I'm not dying, you're not a grieving widow and I don't have the black death- it's just a fucking cold!'

Ha. I knew it wasn't flu.


YOU CAN ADD CRAPWIFE ON FACEBOOK BY SEARCHING FOR Daily CrapWife OR FOLLOW ON TWITTER @CrapWife

Posted in: default | 1 comments

How could you do this to me, Ceri Shaw?


By Crap Wife, 2011-04-15
How could you do this to me, Ceri Shaw?


I found Dave Garland Jones through Americymru.net,

I fell for his hair... then his earring,

Then You aint seen Ruthin yet.

I couldn't take my eyes from the screen; I watched him online,

Fighting wars for his art form,

He's ahead of his time.

Excited by the Geography (he lives close to me,)

I will start a Scrap Book and call it...

The Life of Davie-G.

I was on YouTube for hours, hes had thousands of views,

If I could just maybe once meet him,

Would he make me his muse?

I dont love him in a that way, Im not attracted you see...

But his failings are irresistible...

To a stalker, like me.

The bus stops about a mile from the great DGJs home,

I sit and wait there for hours...

Hoping Dave lives alone.

I leave down-right dejected.Dave Garland Jones is not in.

But it was nowhere near a wasted journey,

I found souvenirs... in his bin.

I feel my confidence soaring, on the tail my toil,

I log on to watch him on youtube...

My blood starts to boil.

The reason (I hear you asking) is Ceri Bloody Shaw,

Trying to lure Dave to America,

The betrayal is raw.

While Dave's songs and sketches pierced my heart like a knife...

Ceri was scheming from Portland,

To take him from my life.

I dont know how Ill continue, in the face of this blow,

Who can I stalk in his absence?

'Cause Daves sure to go.

It's not even like I can follow, the thought fills me with fright,

At one thousand pounds sterling...

I can't afford the flight.

I can live, pray and dream as fate rolls its dice

And that Dave will come back from LA one day...

Treforests quite nice.

In the meantime I am left with YouTube for a friend,

Daves no doubt packing his suitcase,

A/C will have got him in the end.

So I hope you enjoy him, Americymru.net

Be sure to tell him that I love him, please...

...dont let him forget.

CrapWife.


Posted in: default | 3 comments

Please, please support CrapWife and visit the site www.crapwife.com where the blog is visible with pictures and pages.

Apparently Husband didnt sleep very well last night. This is because (according to him) I woke up 6 times, loudly declaring Im hot! and then got out of bed at 4am and cried for ten minutes because I was too cold.
I remember nothing of this and have only his word for it, so given his recent dishonesty, I dont believe him. (Although... it would explain why when I got up this morning I was wearing gloves and the foil space poncho my mother got me when she visited NASA.)
Weve started getting up a minimum of two hours before he leaves for work in order to spend quality time together and talk. This was his idea. It is a very bad idea. Given that I have hypothermia, I think I can excused any blips the usual sunny disposition hes come to know and love.
Do you want toast babe? he asks, all healthy, happy and normal.
Glare.
C-O-C-K- O-F-F I spell out using my hands to make the letters.
Is that a yes or a no? I dont read sign language.

Glare and two fingers.
Two pieces of toast then? Honey?

I like honey, so I nod.
My mood improves as I read get well soon messages on twitter from people who understand how ill I am. Husband promptly ruins this mood by whistling.
When we got married, I drew up a list of rules; one of them prohibited whistling before midday. Husband seems to have forgotten this rule, along with many of the others, including:
  • No pissing in wardrobes no matter how drunk you are
  • No asking for sex for a month if England beat Wales, Scotland or Ireland in
  • any sporting event , including synchronised swimming, archery and bowls.

My fingers and toes are still a turquoisey blue, and if I stand in the garden in my pyjamas I start shivering again. This is proof that I have hypothermia. Husband sees me shivering and tells me to come in before I... and I quote, ...catch a sniffle?

Sniffle? I have hypothermia! A sniffle is something made up by parents to make kids do their anoraks up... or to explain to strangers why their offspring drips snot... I have a potentially life threatening condition caused directly by his cheating on me with animals. I would tell him all this, but Im not speaking to him.
This is nice, we get to spend some time together before I leave now. Howre you feeling? he asks.

 Babe? Howre you feeling? he asks again. Ive tried, I really have, but my will to speak is too strong:

 I feel like shit, I have hypothermia and you arent taking me seriously. I tell him.

 I am taking you seriously, but babe, youve got a sniffle because you got wet and youre grumpy because youre tired.

Grumpy? Im not grumpy; Im having an emotional breakdown caused by ice shards in my brain. I hate it when he plays things down.Hypothermia can cause all sorts of medical complications- I looked it up on Wikipedia.
By the time Husband returned from work last night I had fashioned my office chair into a passable replica of Stephen (God amongst men) Hawkings wheelchair. I accomplished this using duct tape, straws, a digital photo frame, some bamboo canes and the waste hose from the washing machine. This exercise was designed to give Husband a glimpse of the consequences involved when not taking potentially life threatening complaints seriously. If the wheelchair didnt do it, the voice changer app on my iphone certainly hit home.
Judging by the look on his face, Husband will be more sympathetic in future.
I would like to quickly draw your attention to the 'pet names needed' button above this post- please click and share with me your ideas for embarrassing pet names for me to call him in public. There are some crackers there so far... Sunday lunch at my mother's is shaping up to be a colourful affair.
YOU CAN ADD CRAPWIFE ON FACEBOOK BY SEARCHING FOR Daily CrapWife OR FOLLOW ON TWITTER@CrapWife

Posted in: default | 7 comments

Please visit blog in its original format at www.crapwife.com

Husband vowed that he wasnt going to speak to me last night but he had to in the end. I think Ive got hypothermia.

Wife, you dont have hypothermia, youre a just a bit cold because you were being mental in the garden wearing your fucking wedding dress.

A quick Google of the symptoms confirms that yes, I have hypothermia.
Youre shivering because youre still wearing your wedding dress and your extremities arent turning blue, youve painted your bloody toe and fingernails turquoise.
This is beside the point. I have pins and needles and Im woozy. I fear the end is near.
Maybe if you went and changed instead of standing there like Miss Havisham youd feel better.
The similarity is uncanny; its 20 to nine and Ive spent all day training the dog to hate men. Hes probably right about the getting changed thing though, but Alas! I am too weak. Better to have a rest on the kitchen floor instead, I decide.
Babe, get up, youre dripping everywhere. he says, stepping over me.
Woe- I can barely hear you speak, Husband; my energies are concentrated upon staying away from the light. Each word is a struggle for me.
Wife, your veil is stuck to your ears and the light is from the fridge, Im making dinner. Get up.
Hmm. I am hungry; no doubt a side effect from the hypothermia.
Why are you so dramatic? Is this about that Gin thing?

So he admits it then, eh?
My dearest Husband, oh my weary love, I am in much psychic pain- I am finding it troublesome trying to come to terms with your infidelity... And Im not fucking dramatic.

How are you not dramatic? Ive come home tonight to find my wife bobbing in the paddling pool in her wedding dress with our first dance song blasting from the conservatory. And now youre trying to speak all Dickensy- How is that not dramatic???


You lack the tools to understand the complexities of my wounded heart... I say, eyes rolling as death nears.
When I emerge from my brush with death and see that hes ignoring me and chopping tomatoes I decide to be the bigger person.
Husband is clearly ashamed of his recent indiscretion and his refusal to pander to me is obviously because he feels so guilty.
Plus, I really am fucking freezing. I head upstairs to change. After screaming for nearly3 whole minutes Husband is eventually there like a flash. He doesn't seem concerned by my distress and suggests that my skull isnt actually bleeding and that perhaps the blood is seepage from my latest home hair dye attempt. Im not convinced.
Over dinner, he brings up Gin. I tell him that Im not ready to hear him speak the name of that slag pasty and clutch my heart to indicate that it still hurts.
Slag pasty?
I cant answer as unfortunately I seem to have fainted.
You said slag pasty? Gin the slag pasty? As in Ginsters pasty? he thinks he's fucking Columbo.
Did I? I cant recall; my memorys patchy which is probably due to the hypothermia or the bleeding skull .
Are you telling me that youve been accusing me of cheating and floating in the paddling pool in your wedding dress because I ate a steak bake? he asks.
Betrayal is betrayal flowerpot, you made me be a vegetarian so in your face. I reply.
Oh my fucking God. Firstly, the vegetarianism was your idea. Secondly, I only ate meat in work because I found a 4 pack of Peperami behind the DVDs and some wafer thin ham under the sofa on day 1 of usbeing veggie! I was playing you at your own game. he's riled.


I have no idea how they got there and I resent the accusation.
Hes gone a bit red and hes speaking quite loudly, it looks like Husband might be about to break...
Youre mad, babe, I love you. He says, finally.
What? Thats it? Ive caught hypothermia and told my mother hes cheated on me and thats it?
This is what really gets on my tits about Husband. Doesnt matter what I do, how I do it, how mental I act- hes never any closer to breaking than when I first married him. Sometimes I dont know why I bother.
Husband went to bed happy, his patience had miraculously rejuvenated. He even attacked the bedtime challenges with renewed vigour, throwing a new move- the figure of 8- into the naked cock dance recital.
As I watched Husband hum the theme tune to Neighbours and perform the helicopter, his willy wind-milling furiously like the hands on Jodie Marshs body clock, I realised that Im going to have to try harder to break him. I think its time to buy a video camera, don't you?
YOU CAN ADD CRAPWIFE ON FACEBOOK BY SEARCHING FOR Daily CrapWife OR FOLLOW ON TWITTER@CrapWife
Posted in: default | 3 comments
this post can be viewed in its original format with pictures at www.crapwifeblog.co.uk and at www.craphousewife.blogspot.com
I didnt sleep well last night. Husbands deceit is weighing heavily on my mind. Hes cheated on me with animals so what else has he lied about? Am I honestly the centre of his Universe? Is his name actually ######? Does swallowing semen really make you lose weight?
His response to my text about his infidelity was curt:

Im not going to dignify that with an answer. Love you, see you later. xxx


Practically an admission of guilt. Yet I still love him. Yes hes cheated, yes hes betrayed me, but Im really fat, I cant afford to be back on the shelf- health and safety would have a fit.
I manage to stop dry crying long enough to order the shopping online. Sainsburys is taunting me and every thank you message feels like a knife to the heart. Its not just Husbands betrayal that is hurting... Sainsburys and I go back years- I do 6 big shops with Tescos and it sets my Husband up with a Ginsters Slag-Pasty; hardly fair.
Its probably somehow my fault though, maybe if I brushed my hair more often this wouldnt have happened? Perhaps if I used my immac on my bikini line instead of putting it in his baldness cure lotion...? I suppose I shouldnt really have deleted the Matrix from our V+ to make room for John Bishop with his beautiful floppy hair and plus size teeth? I must change to save our marriage. I will be a better wife and remind him why he loves me.
Husband texts while Im polishing the skirting boards:

Hows u r day going?

Busy cleaning and being a good wife and stuff. Please dont leave me.

Wtf r u on about? I am not going to leave u and I havent cheated.

I have evidence. I understand tho, its all my fault, I see that now, Ill be a better wife.

Babe, seriously, what r u on about?

I decide to stop being cryptic and confront him directly about the Ginsters slag-pasty:

I know about Gin. Was she worth it?

I dont even know anyone called Gin. Why r u being mental?'

Not being mental, have proof. Dont worry, will be a better wife so that you dont stray again. Im sorry and I love you etc.

Not cheated. Dont know Gin. No idea what u r on about. Love u the way u r- dont go all fucking alter ego on me, Ive had a hard day.


Alter ego? Me???

Ok. Love you Husband. Lets forget this and save our marriage. Going to weed the garden (even though it hurts my knee) so that you have less to do.

FFS. Leave the plants alone, and dont be mental in the garden, the neighbours already think were weird.


Hmph.
After cleaning the house I decide that theres no better way to remind Husband how much he loves me than by resurrecting one of the Old Faithful games he so enjoys. I think that the Silent Witness is probably his favourite (where I pretend to be a corpse and He has guess what killed me) so I set about planning my death.
Why Husband is pissed off when he gets home is beyond me. Im the victim in all this!
The house is clean and I went to loads of effort to make the Silent Witness game really convincing. It might be that he doesnt like the smell of Zoflora? It could be that he may have accidently thought I was actually dead for a few seconds? Or it may be, as he put it, that I was being mental in the garden again when he specifically told me not to.
Either way, he won the Silent Witness game in record time by correctly guessing that Id drowned in the paddling pool while wearing my wedding dress.
YOU CAN ADD CRAPWIFE ON FACEBOOK BY SEARCHING FOR Daily CrapWife OR FOLLOW ON TWITTER @CrapWife
Posted in: default | 1 comments

this blog can viewed in its original format with pictures at www.crapwifeblog.co.uk or craphousewife.blogspot.com

After the migrainey horror of the past 5 days, I am grateful to report that my head no longer feels as though its home to the chorus line of Jersey Boys whore fighting over a Wizard of Oz DVD.
On Friday, instead of the 45000 CVs from boy band hopefuls I anticipated, I wasgreetedwith a single email advising me that my advert has not been processed as my card issuer declined the transaction. The snotty nosed slag on the phone tells me this is because I made an error with the expiry date.
There must be a mistake as I dont make mistakes. Mistakes are for Husbands and tax offices. I re-check the original order and realise that a card expiring 01/04 probably wouldnt work. This is a major hiccup and I cant help but feel that this typo is somehow Husbands fault. Now, when I head out of the door on my errands later, all Husband has to do is mow the lawn and drink beer. Im tamping.
I need to make him twitchy to buy time so I can formulate a plan B.
Morning Husband, I love you.
I love you too baby, you feeling better?
I'm alright thanks cock-mag, full of the joys of Spring. I missed you when I was sleeping.
Hes visibly shaken.
Meant to tell you babe- Ive sent thatRegaine back, it wasnt working and it smelled funny.
Bollocks.
Also, I've thrown out all the meat Oxos and ordered a vegetable steamer. He tells me.
Two bollocks.
Yeah, I was going to say that actually, I thought of it yesterday, before you did probably... I reply.
...yeah well if being veggie is making you better we should keep it up. Love you.
Two mahusive bollocks and a misshapen penis called Simon.
Now Im going to have to schedule a meat stop into my very busy day.
Ive decided that Im coming to town with you. Husband tells me.
Husband initially thinks that I am crying because I dont want to spend time with him, then he realises that my headache's probably come back and urges me to go to bed.
Im going to leave the rest of the weekend unreported- I had a veggie BBQ and I cant bring myself to talk about it yet.
This morning however, I feel far more positive about the vegetarianism. I must admit, the headaches although as frequent are less severe, and yesterday the Doctor said its a 'step in the right direction'. Not only that, it has highlighted just how dedicated to my health and well being my dear Husband is.
When he left early for work this morning I ventured online in search of meat free meal options and followed a slutty little recipe onto the Sainsburys website that promised to be both easy and satisfying.
The Sainsburys website is a marvellous thing. One click and the ingredients are in my basket, and Im proud to tell you that the whorish beef wellington flaunting itself at the top of the page was no match for my resolve.
Pleased with myself I log onto my nectar transactions and decide to pay with points.
Below is a table showing the recent purchases I have earned nectar points for and the text messages I received from Husband around the time of said purchases:
Text Message from Lying Cock-Sucker Husband
Purchases Brought Home.
Mystery Missing Purchases.
Love you so much, hope head is better, veggie thing good idea, will get V moussaka.xxx

Sainsbury's Vegetable Moussaka, Be Good To Yourself 400g

Nurofen Migraine Pain x12

Hows your head, love you. Actuallyfeel healthier for being veggie, its a good idea babe. Do you think its helping your head?xxx
Sorry u r not feeling well again- poor baby, I read that cutting sugar can help? Shall we give it a go? I dont mind; anything if it makes u better. xxx
I agree. Having couscous in a bit, shall I pick anything up? xxx
I cant believe he actually thought he could get away with this kind of deceit. While Ive been sat at home eating celery(and one fillet steak, a ham and cheese sub, a McChicken sandwich and two corned beef pasties from Greggs)hes been in work cheating on me with animals.
A quick internet search of 'my husband is cheating on me with animals' brought up a worrying selection websites. I was unable to sign Husband up to any of them as I had first intended because my desire for revenge couldn't match my horror at some of the stuff I have today seen. I don't care how liberal you are, fantasising about getting raped by the Lion King and sucking off horses is just plain wrong. Instead, I text him:
'I can't believe you're cheating on me.'
With a Ginsters pasty no less; a fillet steak I could sort of understand, a lamb shank even- but a Ginsters pasty for fucks sake? This must be exactly how Sandra Bullocks felt when her Husband shagged that tattooed munter. I may start a support group. In the meantime, I've made him a pie for dinner.
YOU CAN ADD CRAPWIFE ON FACEBOOK BY SEARCHING FOR Daily CrapWife OR FOLLOW ON TWITTER@CrapWife
Posted in: default | 4 comments

this blog can viewed in its original format with pictures at www.crapwifeblog.co.uk or craphousewife.blogspot.com

Husband is completely over his illness andI almost wish he was sick again because the whistling and general cheerfulness is ruining my mood.
Nothing I say or do seems to be denting his demeanour, its like living with Ant and fucking Dec.
My mood isn't great because my pool arrived today.
I say pool as though its some watery oasis ofmosaickedcharm, its not. It looks to be made of bluetarpaulinand tent poles. Still, itll do the do job. When I decided that I wanted a pool I wasnt unrealistic about the restrictions of budget and space- I knew I wasnt going to be able to have a free form pool dug into the ground or even an above ground one encased in smooth Swedish looking wood... Why then am I so disappointed?
Because I didnt expect it to look like a paddling pool, is why.
When I looked at the pictures online, there was a woman pictured tit height in water with her Husband and 2.4 children. It is clear to me now that these werent real people, or if they were, then they must have been bollocky midgets because theres no way that that this water will come past my kn-ankles, let alone my jubblies.
I dont even think therell be room for me to wear my arm bands and I know for a fact that the inflatable hippo with drinks holder is a no-go. Husband is more positive than me.
Itll be nice, you watch- well fill it with warmishwater and put potted plants around it.
Id rather die that be seen in that.
Come on, give it a chance, all you wanted it for was floating and reading in anyway.
Id rather die than be seen in that.
Ill set it up and see how it looks, right?
Id rather die that be seen in that.
While watching Husband hammer away at assembling our new pool I am reminded how much I love him- a lot. There is nothing he wouldnt do to make me happy and hes constantly trying to think up new ways to impress me.Unfortunately, the pool still looks shit, but I'm going to lie and say I'm grateful for his efforts.
I head outside to relay this but Husband starts speaking first:
Meant to say Wife, your singing yesterday was brilliant, you should start a band.
Sarky little bastard.

Yeah, I know, I was going to actually.

I think youd be really brilliant babe. You should definitely start a band. You should do it and then go on X Factor.
Sarky little bastard.

Does he honestly think Im stupid enough to parade my rotting vocal chords on telly and humiliate myself by sounding like Mariah Carey getting raped?
Babe, Im being serious, you were brilliant, you should do it, you should sing that REM song that you practiced yesterday. Theyd love it.
Sarky little bastard.

He does not know who hes messing with.
On a separate note: Something very weird has happened; The front door lock has been filled with chewing gum. I have no idea who would commit such a wanton act of vandalism but suspect the robbers who stole Husbands clothes may be to blame. In truth, it is but a minor inconvenience, my cousin will be able to fix it next week when hes back from holidays. In the meantime, any visitors can use the back gate which will give them a lovely view of our garden and swimming pool, so no real hardship.
On another unrelated note: Friday is going to be a very busy day for me. I am meeting an artist, and we will be discussing illustrations for the blog- Ill be gone all day, so sadly, Husband shall be spending the first day of his 3 day weekend alone.
Advert:
POOL CLEANER REQUIRED:
Single man with learning difficulties requires pool boy to take over maintenance of garden pool. Must be young, enthusiastic and reliable. Client suffers from frequent short term memory loss & needs someone who is sensitive and patient. Client also partially deaf, Will be necessary to speak louder than is usual when interacting. Excellent rates of pay, health and dental insurance, holiday entitlement and use of vehicle provided. Contact ###### (carer) on: tel.########### to arrange an interview, or attend interview open day on Friday 8 th , April between 1-6pm.
Advert:
****DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?****
********** BAND AUDITIONS: ***********
Music producer requires 4 piece boy band for reality TV show. Auditions to be held at private address, pls note entire process will be filmed by hidden cameras. Do you know how 'not to take NO for an answer'?- Only most determined & confident artists need apply and we have designed our audition process to find them. Dress to impress and remember, you are on camera from start to finish- DO NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER...make sure you stand out.
Audition Open day 18/04/2011 2-7pm at ## ######## ##, ##### #####, #####, ###### email: ############@gmail.com
YOU CAN ADD CRAPWIFE ON FACEBOOK BY SEARCHING FOR Daily CrapWife OR FOLLOW ON TWITTER@CrapWife
Posted in: default | 0 comments

this blog can be viewed in its original format with pictures at www.crapwifeblog.co.uk or at http://craphousewife.blogspot.com/

Husbands sickness isnt my fault. After all, he didnt have to eat the cheese- he could have negotiated with me instead. When you think about it, really, its his own fault for not communicating with me effectively. Monday morning, after a restless night and an early morning taking delivery of parcels, Husband is adamant that it is not his fault. In fact, hes pretty certain that Im to blame (!) This, of course, simply isnt true; and I tell him so.

This simply isnt true.

You made me eat a ball of garlic cheese thatd been in your Nannas handbag for 18 hours.

(I decide not to tell him that my Grandparents have since read the blog and rang to advise that it was more like 22 hours because they were caught in traffic at by Leigh Delemare service station. Or that it had been sat on the windowsill of their hotel room for 48 hours prior to this.)
I cant believe youre blaming Nanna for this Husband, she carried that cheese all the way home for you- youre not even allowed to bring foreign food stuff back into the UK, she could have been jailed. Why are you being like this? I question.
Im not blaming Nanna, Im blaming you. says Husband

Potato/potatoe, were related. says I.
Fine, lets see if she has another ball of cheese and you eat it then? Husband looks smug.
Ooooh youd love that wouldnt you? Me to eat a ball of cheese and get even fatter. You just dont want anyone to fancy me; youre trying to make me fatter so that no one fancies me.

(No-ones actually fancied me since 2004.)
Youre a pleb. He tells me.
Im shocked, as that usually works. Husband goes back to bed with a book and I set about tidying the house (not out of guilt.)
I find that the cleaning is enjoyable today and before I know it,I'vehoovered(not out of guilt) mopped the floors (not out of guilt) and made a batch of 'non vegetarian made with actual chicken' broth (not out of guilt.)
Husband seems really thrilled with my efforts, especially with the soup which he says, and I quote, is just what the Doctor ordered.

I am pleased that were finally reaching a truce, as Im finding being blamed for another persons crimes a terrible burden which is no good for my chi.
I dont know what made me mention the chicken arse while he supped the soup, but as Husband vomited the truce onto my nice clean floor, I realised immediately that it had been a mistake.
In an effort to make light of the situation and recapture the sentiment of the truce, I joke:
Oh, dont worry; at least you didnt throw up on the cat.
Admitidley, this isnt the funniest line Ive ever quipped, but Husbands a simple creature and its enough to make sick come out of his nose. There is no greater horror than watching the one you married vomit through their nose.
Suffice to say that the truce is off. Husband believes that this was a deliberate act of sabotage on my part. I am totally mortified that Husband thinks I would do such a thing, and I tell him so.
I am totally crushed that you think I would do such a thing.

You posted all my clothes back to me- second class ; youre capable of anything. He says.
There you go, bringing up the past again...
They only arrived this morning! You still bip at me for forgetting to put the bins out on our wedding night. (I had left a note reminding him, which he ignored.)
I can see that Husband isnt in the right frame of mind to listen to reason and suggest that he goes back to bed to think about what hes done.
This doesnt seem to go down well and he slams the door on his way out- I think this may be domestic abuse but Im not sure. Thankfully, my mother is somewhat of an authority on this as she sits on a domestic abuse forum-unbelievably, shes more concerned about Husband than me. She suggests that I reread my blog, I tell her I dont have time as Ive got to redo the floor.
I am very hurt and upset about Husbands very low opinion of me (especially when Ive tried to be so helpful.) I decide to play Xbox to perk myself up.
Being as I spent so long organising things this morning (not out of guilt,) I am able to locate the batteries for the karaoke mikes instantly.
Given that Im such a perfectionist, I decide to pick one song and practise it before trying others and starting a band.
By my eleventh rendition of R.E.Ms heart wrencher Everybody Hurts Husband has had enough time to realise that No , he didnt have to eat the cheese, making it his fault he's sick, and Yes , I was only trying to cheer him up when I made him laugh while he vomited.

That, my friends, is what marriage is all about. Communication.
YOU CAN ADD CRAPWIFE ON FACEBOOK BY clicking here CrapWife OR FOLLOW ON TWITTER@CrapWife

Posted in: default | 2 comments
 / 4