Yesterday I had a day off. I did absolutely nothing that didn't need to be done (that sounds back to front doesn't it lol). I cooked and washed dishes but that's about it. Hubby was at a friend's house and I went on strike, not that I'm brave enough to admit that to hubby though. I watched tv, had a snooze, walked down to the Post Office to get the new road tax, and other than that I did very little else.
Now you might think that I enjoyed myself. No I did not. I felt like a spare part, redundant, useless, but never the less I did next to nothing. Hubby came home in a good mood, and I was spared the normal ranting, until about bed time, but boy did my dad get the roasting - not that my dad knows about this, and I shall keep it that way. My dad dared to speak to my brother whilst he was on the phone to hubby saying that he should get off the phone and think of his phone bill... Well, you would have that that dad was the Devil himself. How dare he? I just rolled my eyes and continued to watch Doc Martin lol.
Come bed time and I got the rant. I just let it slide over me. I'm getting better at this now but I'm not saying that it's easy.