Ian and I were right in the middle of it tonight or, to be more precise, approaching the most interesting part of it, which is more near the end, when his mobile rang. I was hoping he would ignore it — a hope that was quickly dashed. It was his wife, asking him to pick up some milk on the way home from ‘work’, as they were all out. After what appeared to be a pleasant conversation on both sides, Ian hung up, and for some inexplicable reason thought we could continue from where we left off.
Why can’t she get her own damned milk during the day?
And why don’t I get a proper boyfriend?