This morning I awoken startled, with a crash and a bang, thinking there were theives & rapists in my house – but alas it was my drunken-arse husband, home from his mammoth ANZAC day with his mates.
I tried to pry him off the cold tiles of the bathroom floor at 3.30am, to no avail, so left him there until he crawled into the carpeted hallway sometime after.
I had every intent of being mad at him for not getting home before the agreed pumpkin hour (midnight) but seeing him all pathetic and shivering brought out my softer and more forgiving side….sleeping on the floor in the freezing cold is punishment enough.
I finally got him into off the floor and into the shower at 9am, then after a couple of hours of sleep in our actual bed, he’s doing much better. There are photos, but they are too incriminating, and Im sure everyone knows what a drunk-arse man looks like, so I dont need to post them….
(sorry baby if your reading this, but really, what choice did you give me???!!!)