Sometimes I think that Mr H's life can't be much fun, it must be difficult to be so tied up by your rituals and regimes, and to have to over analyse and over plan every detail of life.
This weekends panic has been caused by Christmas. You'd have thought that after 50 odd years he would have realised that it happens every year, but apparently not, it seems to have snuck up on him. Now, he doesn't have to do anything much, I buy and wrap almost everything, including for his mum, his sisters and his adult children, all he has to do is deliver them to their intended recipients.
So we had 4 bags of presents in the spare room, he is seeing his mum and sisters this week, and his adult children next week, but decided last week that he would take all the bags with him this week, just in case he forgot them next week! He has wittered about this all weekend, and even got to the point of putting the bags into the car yesterday afternoon, then came back into the house with 2 of the bags, having decided, after much thought, that he would leave the bags for his children here until next week, because the bedroom at his friends (where he stays when he works away) isn't very big, and if he had the bags in there he wouldn't have room to put his socks on!
How I kept a straight face I do not know, although I did have to have a walk up the garden for a subversive giggle! But giggling apart, life must be pretty grim when your head is filled with plans for how you will get dressed 3 days in advance, I cannot comprehend how or why you would think about such a thing, and it made me think that although I moan about Mr H and his weird foibles, and how they impact on me, life isn't always fun for him either.
But hey ho, he's off to work so some much needed peace for me.
Hannah x
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