I have been meaning to sit and write a personal post for some time now but can never word myself correctly. No matter how hard I try I still find that I am unable to outline my emotions clearly.
As tempting as it may be to sit and rant about all the little things which eat away at me each day, the internet isn’t really place to air my dirty laundry nor to whinge about life as it is. I will however let you into a little secret, my life is far from perfect and there are times when quite frankly I’d like to scream and cry but what good what that do?
I always find that it’s the little things both good and bad that make the massive differences in terms out outcomes. This weekend has certainly reminded how fragile emotions and relationships can be.
If you were to stub your toe on the door whilst on the way out it would most definitely hurt and quite possibly put you into a bad frame of mind for wherever you were heading. The door didn’t mean to hurt you, your toe will repair in time but still you may find yourself feeling as if your day is doomed due to a simple error.
Poor Paul hasn’t had the best weekend and as a result hasn’t been in the best of moods which has resulted in us bickering about the most ridiculous things which in reality matter diddly squat. Don’t you hate it when arguments brew for no real reason? Apparently it’s entirely normal for most couples especially those with children but bloody hell it’s been a rough weekend!
Somehow Paul managed to break his beloved phone last week and following mourning the death of his swish Samsung we finally found a replacement which of course has come at a cost but I really and truly don’t care so long as he is with phone and as a result, a happy husband.
The same evening whilst very kindly doing the ironing (because men can iron too) Paul accidentally dropped the hot iron onto the living room carpet which in turn left a lovely scorch mark slap bang in front of the sofa.
As the good old saying goes “sweep it under the carpet” or in our case, the rug which I have now ordered to cover the burn because as much as I have tried to ignore said scorch mark, my eyes cannot help but to be drawn to the triangular shaped stain which is of course irremovable.
It didn’t seem to matter how many times I reassured him that I knew and understood that it was an accident it obviously wasn’t enough as once again we found ourselves bickering over a sodding stain. WHO CARES ABOUT A FUCKING STAIN ON THE CARPET!? Well ok I do but still, theres no point in arguing over things which are out of your control.
They say that bad luck comes in threes so god knows whats coming next, lets hope it’s just a double whammy and we can stay safe from disaster for the next few days.
The weekend is now over, the kids are about to go to bed, the rug is on order, Paul has a new phone to play with and a hot bath is running which I plan to sink into with Tori Amos playing on full blast and a glass of Baileys by my side.