Mark has been pretty good over Christmas - although I did snap at him yesterday. Today - after a long discussion about our respective ways of thinking about things, and an offering of a pot of daffodils - very nice! - he revealed that he'd excelled himself in idiocy. He took a cheque my father had made out to me in my married name (which I don't use) to the bank. I signed it on the back in my married name and told him to pay it in like that. For some reason he took it upon himself to change my name on it, and initial the change... it will bounce and somebody will be charged (probably my father). I wish he would just do what I asked, then if things go wrong they will be my fault and I will learn that this signing on the back thing no longer works. Now it will definitely go wrong, because essentially he has tried to forge someone else's cheque - delaying another much needed payment.
Finn said sweetly "never mind, maybe you could use his cheque instead." I explained that we did not use our present cheques to buy ourselves treats - rather to get through the demands of the household. I think we will have a moratorium on eating for January - that should save some money.
It shouldn't matter, but his stupidity in practical matters is unfortunately compounded by an apparent need to ignore instructions - why? It was my cheque, what gave him the right to write on it, especially when I'd told him what I'd like him to do. He thinks he knows better, he doesn't. "What do you mean your father's bank will reject it?" he said. "Well - where do you think cheques go when you pay them into the bank? Up into the aether as an offering to the gods?"
The true story of Christmas is this: I worked bloody hard, the boys were helpful and Mark worked hard too on making fires and moving furniture and making up beds. I worked hard on 24th, 25th, 26th and 27th. On 28th we went to the Turner with Pa and when I came home I was knackered, but still had to make supper for Chris who came to visit Mark. While Chris was here Mark went off into Markworld - a place of intense discussion about Italy, archaeology, developers, gothic architecture and so on. It's all good stuff but like the lotos it makes him forget about other people and things - so no drink for me, no help etc. I was getting tireder and tireder - I made a Christmas pie - and a fruit salad, we had supper, I went to bed. Today was meant to be a rest day - but every time I try to do something he's talked to me intensely to prevent me reading, peppered me with ceaseless questions to prevent me writing, and done something so annoying and grating that I have been unable to watch and enjoy the Simpsons. Shortly we will have to go out to a party, which I'm sure will be quite enjoyable, but I know he won't enjoy it, and he's already getting shirty about it.
He says he hates being interrogated at parties about what he does (people love to meet a real archaeologist!). I hate having to listen to people with strong opinions who can't discuss them, but like to churn them out... this is very likely to happen to this evening - if I am not subject to persistent monologues from men... I don't want to go out, I want to be ALONE. I want to study and think and be able to concentrate on things. Fat chance at Christmas.
Finn said sweetly "never mind, maybe you could use his cheque instead." I explained that we did not use our present cheques to buy ourselves treats - rather to get through the demands of the household. I think we will have a moratorium on eating for January - that should save some money.
It shouldn't matter, but his stupidity in practical matters is unfortunately compounded by an apparent need to ignore instructions - why? It was my cheque, what gave him the right to write on it, especially when I'd told him what I'd like him to do. He thinks he knows better, he doesn't. "What do you mean your father's bank will reject it?" he said. "Well - where do you think cheques go when you pay them into the bank? Up into the aether as an offering to the gods?"
The true story of Christmas is this: I worked bloody hard, the boys were helpful and Mark worked hard too on making fires and moving furniture and making up beds. I worked hard on 24th, 25th, 26th and 27th. On 28th we went to the Turner with Pa and when I came home I was knackered, but still had to make supper for Chris who came to visit Mark. While Chris was here Mark went off into Markworld - a place of intense discussion about Italy, archaeology, developers, gothic architecture and so on. It's all good stuff but like the lotos it makes him forget about other people and things - so no drink for me, no help etc. I was getting tireder and tireder - I made a Christmas pie - and a fruit salad, we had supper, I went to bed. Today was meant to be a rest day - but every time I try to do something he's talked to me intensely to prevent me reading, peppered me with ceaseless questions to prevent me writing, and done something so annoying and grating that I have been unable to watch and enjoy the Simpsons. Shortly we will have to go out to a party, which I'm sure will be quite enjoyable, but I know he won't enjoy it, and he's already getting shirty about it.
He says he hates being interrogated at parties about what he does (people love to meet a real archaeologist!). I hate having to listen to people with strong opinions who can't discuss them, but like to churn them out... this is very likely to happen to this evening - if I am not subject to persistent monologues from men... I don't want to go out, I want to be ALONE. I want to study and think and be able to concentrate on things. Fat chance at Christmas.
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