GOING TO THE CHAPEL
EXCERPT
5th October 2006: Pretty Inconsequential Shoes
Today did not go well. Autumn is making itself felt with chillier mornings and Twinks decided it was high time he swapped his pretty summer sandals for hardier wear in the form of his beloved pink sequinned boots. Only, having served faithfully for over three winters his boots decided to be recalcitrant in the form of a loose sole. To make matters worse it was Don's day off. Susie was on holiday and Tina called in sick, so he ended up bootless and working alone all day with Pat.
By the time I arrived to pick him up he was in a mare of a mood and waded into me with all hooves blazing. I was late! Did I think he had nothing better to do than wait around for me in the cold and damp? The traffic jam on the bridge was also my fault. If I'd arrived on time we would have missed it.
We finally got home and he slipped thankfully into his pink fluffy mules, only to have a heel break on him. All hell let loose as he kicked off the wounded mule with a barrage of furious complaints about frigging traitorous footwear.
I'd had a rough day at work. There’s talk about relocating my entire department to Bristol, and I was in no mood for drama queen theatrics and tantrums over pretty inconsequential shoes. I walloped his backside and then felt awful about it. Did I spank him because he deserved to be spanked or did I spank him because I was feeling bad and needed to off load my own tension? Relationships in general are never easy, but relationships like ours are even less so in some respects.
I thought the matter over as I made dinner, concluding that he had deserved to be disciplined. He’s far too fond of throwing tantrums and chucking stuff around when things don’t suit him. I get sick and tired of fielding his bad tempered missiles.
After dinner I told him about the relocation rumours at work and he’s been very quiet ever since. I can’t blame him. If it comes about it will mean massive changes in our life. I don't even want to think about it at this juncture.
Copyright Tarn Swan 2011