gonna have to when

Today was so awful that my dog's diahorrea, sadly, was the highlight of my day.

You see, today it was a curriculum day. I sat in a lecture theatre and listened to people talk about this for eight hours.

Honestly. I can't tell you.

I was dying.

But then, this is not meant to be a story about my boring day.

No. Certainly not. This is a story about my husband, and how - since we have been attempting our babymaking - he has developed the extremely irratating habit of getting me to do / not do things by making reference to the fact that I will have to / have to not do them when we have a baby.

It appears that I have finally stumbled apon one of the hitherto surprisingly rare disadvantages of being married to a man with children from before.

Like tonight, right?

Cleaning up the dog following its diahorrea became a chance to develop my skills au faecal:

It's just like changing a nappy, Meg. You're going to have to do it when we have a baby.



See this dog?

It was not like changing a nappy. Felix is a long-haired, meat-eating border collie for chrissake. Not a baby.

I literally had to go to the supermarket to buy a plastic bucket, and rubber gloves.

All T. had to do was hold him down, laughing, while I scrubbed, and the brown water whirled slowly, revoltingly, down the sink.

Surely no one elses' husband could be quite so annoying?

Surely not?