Our first fight!
I bought a tripod clothes drying thingy. After lugging the blasted thing back to the house I took it outside to the wilderness and proceeded to read the instructions- that's right, instructions, and the instructions clearly state we need a concrete base for the stupid pole.
I curse a bit and presently the paramour joins me to see what I"m cursing about.
'We can just dig into the soil.' he says after I tell him we're short on concrete.
'It won't work.'
'It will, get me the hammer.'
'Where is it?'
'In the house.'
'I know it's in the house, where in the house?'
'How should I know, go look for it.'
We glare at each other. Neither of us go for the hammer. Who fucking digs with a hammer anyway?
'Can we bring this thing back?' he says toeing the tripod line with his foot. The price is clearly visible on the side.
'You don't know? WE just spent 60 Euros on this piece of crap!'
'Why don't we just string a line between that pole and that tree.'
'It will cut off half the garden.'
'I'd need a ladder to do it.'
'So go get one.'
'Mine's back at the house, do you want me to shit one out?'
'If you could that would be most useful.'
More glaring. The birds are silent and a stupid wasp buzzes slowly between us, wondering why we're not trying to bat it away. I hope secretly it stings the paramour, but not badly.
'Let's go home.'
So know we're back here, eating mexican chicken wraps smothered in sweet chilli sauce. I"m on the computer and he's watching men talk about football.
The line can bloody wait, either that or we're getting a tumble dryer.