Phew, life has been really busy for me. Not life changing or anything dramatic mind, just not enough hours in the day to do everything.
Anyway, as you know I like to share a few snippets about my hubby, so here we go with his latest “moment.”
The past weekend was really good in our household, weather was pleasant, no rushing around, youngest daughter was out, doggies were sprawled and I’d managed to cook a reasonable Sunday lunch. In short, a smiley weekend.
So there we were, Sunday late-lunch is done and we are now heading off to the forest for a much needed walk. Doggies were loaded, we climb into the van with stars and hearts floating around the pair of us – picture a love struck movie and you’ll get the idea.
Within seconds of leaving the perimeter Vesuvius erupted and by the time we reached the forest – a mere three minutes later – we were both about ready to toss each other out of our moving vehicle.
I get out the van, slamming the door with enough force to fool the neighbourhood of a pending earthquake, and hubby does the same. We both take hold of a doggie, I head off, hubby does too and WHAM, he walks into a tree. Now I didn’t see this happen, so after hearing a noise, I turn round and find him down on one knee holding his head in his hand. First thought was, my goodness, bit late to propose, darling.
Suffice to say, I was not very supportive and spent a considerable amount of time trying not to laugh…to be exact the whole way round the forest through to the following day.
Now, hubby, who I love more than anything in the universe, holds me responsible for anything he cannot find or see. I swear if he lived alone he would have to acquire a multi-personality called Ruth to accuse of moving all and sundry. And if there is no way I was around and find myself reprieved of accusation, then the nearest person in sight is to blame. I tell you this because of the next point.
Monday morning, calm has restored, I have not yet managed to ask him about his head. Cruel you may think, but in my defence, m’lord, my lips can’t control themselves and I start resembling the joker.
“How is your head, darling,” I manage to mumble.
“I thought you might blame me for putting the tree in the way.”
“No,” he says, touching his graze. “It’s the dog’s fault.”