My mother is arriving later for a (self-invited, announced by answerphone message) visit. I am not happy about this, but must admit to a certain curiosity. I’m torn between refusing to open the door, and wanting desperately to know whether she’ll even acknowledge what happened on their last visit.
I rang Jim at work to tell him this. His response: I’ll come home late, then. Thanks, that was the final straw. It’s over, isn’t it? I can’t deal with him not dealing.
(Neighbour has promised to be in garage within earshot, just in case; kids will be warned and can choose to go somewhere else.)
V (Victor) “I require assistance.”
I might just go and knit up a quick flag…