I just sit down to enjoy my evening.
The kids are in bed, the lunches are made and the washing up done.
I have a fluffy blanket and a glass of vino with my name on it….ahhhhh.
Ring ring, ring ring.
I glance at the phone.
There staring back at me, those dreaded four words. Dans Mum and Dad.
Just don’t answer, pretend your out. You no you don’t want to!
I’m just too bloody nice.
I answer, in my most fake happy voice.
I’m dying inside, that’s my evening fucked.
I in bark on the marathon conversation that has become my weekly torture.
1 hour and 36 minutes later…… and she’s still spouting the same old shit. It wasn’t fucking interesting the first time, and it sure ain’t interesting now, either.
Pass me an ice block, the mother in law has finely forced me to repeatedly punch myself in the face-why am I still conscious ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.