Bad habits. I definitely know there are some of us who have more of them than others.
People (like me) have itsy bitsy tiny ones you’d barely even notice. They’re like a speck of moon dust up in the outer atmosphere of life. Then there’s other people (like Guido) who have great big ones the size of a space station orbiting earth. No matter how hard you try to ignore them they stubbornly refuse to burn up during re-entry.
There’s a hook on the back on our bathroom door and a steel ladder radiator for wet towels to dry out but Guido never hangs anything there. It must be one of the great mysteries of his life that after a soggy bath they miraculously pick themselves up and are back to hand the following morning to pat his face dry.
Need I mention underwear? Usually this blog will go into great, and I’ll admit gratuitous, description about how my husband and I peel our knickers off one another and then open a bottle of maple syrup just for the hell of it. But I can’t recall telling any of you how our boxer shorts eventually reach the Ali Baba laundry basket. Let me solve that one for you.
I put them in there.
It’s the same as when I replace the empty toilet roll holder, and close the dishwasher door.
Last night Ted and Gary and their super intelligent Jack Russell dog, called Brian, came over. Naturally I raised this in conversation with them.
“As far as I’m concerned the only person in our household with any bad habits,” said Gary, “is Brian.”
I looked at Brian and he looked at me. I could see this obviously came as a big surprise to him.
“He likes to chew a bone in our bed at the most inopportune of moments,” sniffed Ted.
Brian shook his head in complete disagreement but nobody seemed to notice. The whistle had been blown, as they say.
Later on our sofa (after I’d picked up the soggy towels, refilled the toilet holder and shut the dishwasher door) Guido and I sat on the sofa watching the sports channel. As usual, the remote control was strategically held between his legs in a vice like grip. I defy anyone to wrestle it free without the use of deep hypnosis or metal plyers.
“Can you believe Ted and Gary have no bad habits?” I said, “I mean, really!”
“None they were willing to tell you,” said Guido staring at the TV.
Poor Brian, I thought. I reckoned he was going to be far more careful where he chewed in future.
“At least you conceded I had none,” I said.
“Well, none I was willing to tell them,” said Guido. He had this annoying smirk on his face.
There was a long pause.
“I could have mentioned that you chatter on and on inanely for hours in bed after switching the lights out whilst I’m struggling to get some shut eye,” he said. “And you reveal intimate facts about our sex lives to persons unknown across the globe via your blog.”
There was another long pause.
I found myself thinking about the varied and diverse uses for maple syrup. Then I made a mental note.
I really must keep my mouth shut in bed.