WTF!

Sam was mental this morning. We woke early. Sam was chatty. I pretended to be asleep, but he wasn't having any of it.  That is the reverse to what normally happens in bed in the mornings on the weekend.

Last night, coming back from dinner with a friend, Sam decided that we just had to have fabric conditioner. Lovely, sweet, soft fabric conditioner to make our lives better, he's been on about it for the last few days. I don't know why, maybe it is my, as he puts it, "loose" attitude to cleaning.

"You do realise that you are being conned into buying twice as much detergent for you washing." I said, "by the advertising people?"

"Oh no, lovely and soft." He rubbed his hands around his jaw and closed his eyes as if he was smelling some thing beautiful.

"Oh, for goodness sake."

"Okay, it is 9am, now we must wash the bed clothes with the new fabric conditioner."

"Now?"

"Now!"

"No," I protested. "Do it later, why does it have to be done now?"

"No now!" He played, 'The boy does nothing,' as if that built his point. He said it was time to be productive.

"No," I protested again.

"Get out of the bed."

"No!"

"You leave me no choice!"

Then he started to rip the bed clothes from the bed while I was still in it, as if I wasn't even there.

"No! Stop!" I hung onto hands full of bed clothes with failing hands. "Noooooo!" He pulled! I pulled! I protested. He ripped the doona and sheets out of my hands. "No!" The cotton pulled through my fingers, my hands ached.

He was tenacious, I lost every thing. "Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!" I gasped for breath.

When you are left clinging to the corner of a doona and nothing else, the morning lie in is, pretty much, over.

"Ahhhhhh!!!!!!!"

I was left sitting on a bare mattress clinging to a bare pillow. Sad Face.

Good fucking morning!

And now I am off to Craigieburn, because my sister is caught up doing stuff and as she said, in the nicest sisterly kind of way, 
"It is, after all, always me making the drive to Fitzroy."

Welcome to the weekend.

At least the sun is shining.