Firstly Happy New Year to one and all. K and I welcomed in the New Year with a DVD and a bottle of champagne – it was quiet but lovely.
To be honest I was a bit hesitant of making a big deal about the whole New Year thang cause of K’s mum dying this time last year, so as usual I just got introspective and didn’t bother to talk to him about it, and was left feeling unsure if he wanted reflection and quiet or if he wanted hustle and bustle. He didn’t make many phone calls and texted nearest and dearest early in the evening so I went with quiet and reflective….
That said I need to let you know that I’ve made a huge decision, I’ve chosen this day, this new year to make my blog one of total honesty, even when the one who isn’t quite being perfect is me.... so that said I'm going to blog about yesterdays little insensitivity
You see K is off work all this week, so its me getting up first and heading off into the cold dark mornings whilst he cocoons himself in my duvet. Not that I felt in the least bit resentful, we perfect creatures never allow the bile that rises in our throats to ruin our day!
So the first part of the morning passed with the usual humdrumness of work, at lunch time whilst out buying my healthy wholemeal sandwich and grapes I remembered that K had said on Saturday “I’ll cook Chilli on Tuesday”. Whilst stood in the veg shop Snidey me popped up with "Yaha how likely is that - I bet he doesn’t".
Feeling all martyrdomish I purchased supplies for the chilli I knew he wouldn’t have got. Then I spent the afternoon going over all the conversations with Snidey me I was going to have when I walked into the caravan to find no dinner made.
By the time I was in the car K and I were having a full-blown argument and World War 236 (I think that’s the WW we have reached so far) was about to erupt.
So bags bulging with righteous supplies I flounced into the trailer, argument ready and verbal beatings lined up. Imagined my chagrin when the gorgeous aroma of K’s chilli bubbling away greeted me. Snidey me skipped gleefully into the dark recesses of my pea like brain chanting "whose gonna eat humble pie, whose gonna eat humble pie".
I kissed K and openly admitted what I had been thinking and you know what humble pie don’t taste that bad.
