She asked me last night "Shall we put the deckies up this weekend?" "No"
Pause.
"Well can we just get the boxes down from the loft then?" "No, I'll do it next week"
"Well just get them down and I'll do the rest" "No because you'll put them up and make me get involved and I can't be bothered, I've got stuff I need to sort up there and I'll do it on my day off next week when you're not in"
"I'll do it myself then" Now this, you men will ALL recognise this. It's a threat.
So, here we go boys, the game of acid chess is alive. Every single weekend, a day or two before there is always something just to turn the gas on every so lightly so that by Saturday morning the house is as tense as the Nuremberg trials. One day a week I like to myself unless we've got something proper on. One day, a few bets on the footy and the racing and my feet up. She's got "The game's not till tomorrow and you won't want to do anything then so can you just get the boxes down" up her sleeve.
Little does she know that I binned a load of them when I took them down last year (lights and a few other basic bits) and promised myself I'd replace them without her kicking off. Have I? have a bollox. Am I going to just fess up? Nope because I'm a fanny and I'm gonna blame her. "You must have binned them my little alligator" Then grab the car keys and say I'll go and get some more knowing full well she'll have calmed down by the time I get back and might even start thinking maybe she did bin them after all and aren't I an absolute hero for going out to get new ones. Might even get her a little pressie.
Executed correctly, this might just be an ok weekend after all.
