The last annual leave I took was in February, and my time off was ruined less than two hours after I got home by my wife's news about the likely demise of her job (a story that's still rumbling on, despite her having been transferred to the new contract holder a month ago - she might still end up having to accept something like a 15% pay cut to keep on doing what has become a bigger job). This morning has surpassed that record easily, however - despite almost literally working myself to a standstill over the last few weeks, I ended up with my wife slamming the phone down on me when I refused to jump through the same hoop for the third time for the benefit of our mortgage provider. I've spoken to her since, and to say diplomatic relations are 'frosty' is something of an understatement. So, this break appears to be heading for the rocks nearly 48 hours before it's even begun. Why do I fucking bother?
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
No one ever said life was going to be a bed of roses. You just have to do the best you can with what you have to work with. At least when you get home she can't slam the phone down on you. You can look her in the eyes and continue to reason with her, hopefully.
ReplyDeleteHello Brian
ReplyDeleteBed of roses? The occasional stunted snowdrop would be a bloody miracle at the moment. Still, it's another 24 hours or so before I get home, so maybe I'll have chilled out a bit by then.
Love & best wishes
Sammy B