Friday

Oh, groan, back to the rental, to find out the model number of the cook top and to clean some more. Please let this be the last time. I'm so over it. Don't tell Sam. Oh, he knows, I find it hard to hide my displeasure. I just want it to be over, and it will be over next week when the new tenants move in.

I exhaled the wrong way, or too obviously, through my nose when I was putting on my shoes, and Sam cracked the shits.

"You don't have to go, don't worry. I'll go myself." 

You know, the people who don't drive, who have never bothered to put in the time and energy to get their licences can't really complain when their dedicated unpaid chauffeur doesn't particularly feel up to driving them about, there is always public transport, never the less...

"What?" I asked. Half heartedly, you know as if what he said was somehow ambiguous, yes that is true, it was very half hearted. And despite myself, maybe with just the slightest hint of hope at not going. You know, sometimes you can't help those things.

And Sam had packed a backpack in no time and had marched out the front door. And was gone.

Truthfully, I was beginning to feel a little unwell again after eating lunch, and was a bit annoyed with myself at feeling unwell again, if I was feeling anything, that was really what the tired exhale was all about as I put on my shoes.

I didn't argue, though, bad me. After asking, what? I said nothing else until Sam left. I didn't say, you are being ridiculous, I just kept quiet.

I'm feeling tired and lacking in energy, that's why I was exhaling loudly. Truthfully. I don't want to be sick.

Sam knew I didn't want to go, though, that is true.

He thought... oh, I guess you get the picture.