To Be Continued...

So it was Saturday morning...

I drove home to have a quick shower but Wemmaly was in there. I didn't say hello; the door was wide open and she'd let the dog inside even though I'd told her he's an Outside dog only. I grabbed his collar and lead and put him in the car. Then we went and got little Son from Grandma's and went over to see hubby.

His sister had picked him up from the hospital. He was still in his same work clothes two days after his accident. I was sitting out on the back veranda. He told me how he had been trying to open a window when it had happened; he said the piece of glass had gone in about fifteen millimetres and that the wound was the same size as a marble. I felt sick when he told me he could see the veins and muscles and how the tendons had snapped when he was wiggling his fingers for the nurse.

I asked if he wanted to come and watch the Boy's play cricket down at the oval. He said he did. We sat together at the park; I had two beers but he was on antibiotics. When the game was finished he walked up to the Pub. I drove Kasper and Filthy Phil up there. Hubby bought me a beer and we stayed about an hour. Then I drove him back to his Mother's. When I dropped him off he said he'd call me tomorrow and that we could have lunch or dinner together.

On the way home I stopped in to see CC and Norty. They ended up feeding me a plate of pork and crackle oozing with gravy and then I went home to bed. I hadn't slept for thirty six hours. I slept like the dead.

When I woke up Chopper was asleep with Wemmaly. On my couch. My beautiful suede couch. He saw me coming and got outside in just the nick of time. I don't care what other people let their dogs do; but mine Knows he's not allowed inside let alone on my fucking lounge. When she woke up Wemmaly said she had a 'dead leg'.

Me: That would be from the dog. You left the front door open all night. He's not allowed in. He's got fleas.

Wemmaly: I know. I spent two hours de-fleaing him.

(WTF? On my lounge?)

Sunday; hubby rang After lunch. He asked me what I was making for tea. I told him lasagna. His mother dropped him in about five thirty with little Son. We ate just after six. Then we watched television for a while. Around eight thirty his Mother came back to collect him.

Monday I had a talk to Wemmaly; it's just not going to work out, us living together. She wants her space and I want mine back. It's not just the half hour showers or leaving the lights and television on all night; even though I would dread the electricity/phone/water bill every quarter if we did. Or even letting the dog in on my couch. We realised that she's out to move on with her life and I'm hell-bent on getting the life I had back. She's not cut out for the Burbs. She wants a bigger city than this. New experiences and places. And I want my local Pubs. And the mates I already have. And hubby.

He called past Monday afternoon. I asked him what was going on with 'Us'. He said he would consider moving back in but not right away. I asked him if I should go ahead with putting in the seperation papers at Centrelink. He told me that I had better if I wanted any money to live on.

So Tuesday I dropped in all of the paperwork. And we Seperated. Officially.

On the way home I got a cask of wine and cried for the next four hours. Somewhere in the middle of this Twink sent me a message.

Twink: Have you been getting any love letters from Fido?

I rang him up.

Me: Three so far.

(NB The texts he sent were in regard to Miss Fancy Pants bringing her new boyfriend to Twink's house on the weekend. Fido thinks we were disrespecting him by welcoming in her new man to our circle of mates. Like we told him; MFP is our friend too and we won't disrepect her by discluding anyone she brings around, regardless of how that makes Fido feel. He'd sent messages to me, Twink and Daz telling us we were untrustworthy and disrespectful. I'd made the mistake of acknowledging them; hence why I'd received three 'love letters').

Twink: What's up with you? Have you got a cold?

Me: No. I'm sooking. On the piss. By myself.

He told me that things would work out with hubby in the end and not to worry so much about it. Good old Twinkle Toes. For someone who's so adamant that he doesn't give a shit about anything he's actually a bit of a softie.

Wednesday I went to work hungover. I worked Thursday, too. Wemmaly told me she'd mind the kids for me while I went to trivia. Hubby had a doctor's appointment in the morning which I drove him to. Afterwards we met up at the Pub. Twink and C were there too. Hubby won seventeen hundred dollars on the pokies and decided to stay for trivia. There was only one problem. Where was he going to stay for the night?

Me: I suppose you could crash in little Son's bed if you wanted to...

By now Fido had forgiven us for treating MFP's boyfriend with respect. I sat at his table with Golden Shower Boy and a few others. At one point we were sitting there together while the other's were out having a ciggy. There was an uncomfortable silence.

Me: So. (Pause) What about this Baffler question?

GSB: (Unintelligable mumble)...

I gave up trying to converse with him. He makes no sense at the best of times.

Hubby and I caught a cab back to my house. He went into little Son's bed and fell asleep. Wemmaly and I sat up drinking and talking for another hour.

I was drunk. I opened the door to little Son's room and saw him laying there; his bandaged wrist behind his head. Then I did what any other person might have done, too.

I went in.

And told him to move over and make some room for me.

And he did...