A few weeks ago, I mentioned to Tom about buying the kids’ presents for Christmas, his reply – ‘That’s your department‘
The tree needs putting up, the house decorating – ‘That’s your department‘
Today I asked when we’re doing the food shop – again, my department.
I ask what he’d like buying in the way of food – ‘Your department‘
So, I have bought every single present with a toddler in tow, because it’s also my department to look after Annie 24 hours a day. I have decorated the tree, the living room, dining room and hallway with Annie helping. I need to decide what we’re going to eat, when to do the shop and actually do the shop. No doubt wrapping the presents will be my department too, as well as all the other bits and bobs that need doing at this time of year. I haven’t even written a Christmas card yet.
Tom, on the other hand, has had two Christmas work parties – one that gave him a free hotel room for the night, and the other one on my birthday. He has nothing to do or worry about other than what to watch on the telly each night but next time he asks me for something that he really wants a hand with I’m plonking myself on the sofa, vodka in one hand, remote in the other, I’m going to scratch my arse, fart a few times and say ‘That’s your fucking department‘.