Since I've been less mobile because of a gammy knee I've noticed that the men in my life can be less than helpful.
Waits till I've done the chores, fed him, cleared away, brought him a coffee and then asks, 'Is there anything I can do?'
Always leaves pee on the floor in the loo but denies he's the guilty party.
Tells me off for 'doing too much' but expects me to drop everything and mooch round the D.I.Y. store while he hums and ha's about the wood he needs (for shelves I DON'T want him to do!).
Watches awful American 'reality TV' shows all afternoon with the sound on deafeningly high.
Is obsessed with having cushions placed 'just so' to prevent his right foot from leaning over and calls me at the most inconvenient times to put them right.
Get's uptight if the physiotherapist or ambulance drivers are a bit late. He asks me to ring them and when I refuse he does it himself. Then they tell ME off because they don't think he'll understand the reprimand!
Even Jay, who normally cleans upstairs, went off to London this morning saying casually that he hadn't had time to do any housework - and The Bear's daughter and grandaughter arrive tomorrow.
My cleaning lady (8 hours a month thanks to the Whale's disability) is on holiday and so I'll have to do everything. No hope of resting my leg then.
