As any other Saturdays, Hubbie asked me ‘Fancy breakfast at the caf?’
I had no reason to say no so rolled out of the bed and made myself presentable.
Hubbie was sheepish because I got really mad at him last night. The reason why I erupted like a volcano was because yet again, he ended up having to sacrifice our weekend for work! We hadn’t have any decent weekend as a couple since last May.
I was entitled to be angry!
Why do I have to be deprived of a quality weekend because some b*st*rds in the organisation want to be richer? Those SOBs will never give up their holiday nor weekend while dumping all the problem on Hubbie’s lap. I knew he was already tired and stressed but couldn’t help raising my voice. I was livid. Poor Mr.B tried to intervene by clinging to my knees while Hubbie cowered behind the cupboard, hiding from “the line of fire”…
Anyway, I woke up with a slight sore throat – too much shouting. *SIGH*
When we entered the caf, there were a couple with onesies on…
I saw girls in onesies before but not on any man except those charity collectors with a collection bucket in hand or Halloween party goers. Is this a new men’s fashion trend?
We had the usual…
The waitress didn’t even need to be reminded.
Two fried eggs with two brown toasts, accompanied by a sausage and girdled tomatoes.
I was still tetchy and less communicative.
Then, normally quiet Hubbie all the sudden started to ask questions – ‘Is your breakfast going down well?’ or ‘More milk in your tea?’ so on – and it drove me crazy!
Ok, ok, OKAY! I forgive you…
So we kind of made up and our weekend started in a more amiable term…
