Now I feel a bit better
I'm pretty sure that my temper is going to get worse before it gets much better, but for the moment the tension has eased somewhat. I've put his tent up. Indoors it actually appears larger than it did at the campsite and it takes up pretty much the entire floorspace in the living room, after I've juggled the furniture about a bit. I also had to shift some boxes of books and after checking the contents I've earmarked another four to go with the two that are already in the kitchen and set for taking to the nearest charity shop if not the tip. They're not joining the boxes he took up to his bedroom the day before we left (last Friday) and there's no indication they'll be coming downstairs anytime soon.
They're stuff, and stuff makes him feel secure. Never mind the quality feel the volume. Stuff, and more stuff.
Actually he's a bit of a joke among his friends which was something else that came out while we were away. They're laughing but they don't have to live with all the stuff ... or the predations on the family finances that go with the acquisition of Stuff.
One of our shopping expeditions was to (boo, hiss) Tesco, currently all seeing, all conquering in the grocery sector. The store isn't bit or large or huge or enormous - it is gargantuan. The downstairs has an electricals department that's about as large as our local supermarket. Then there's the food and groceries and booze. Upstairs they sell clothes and stuff for indoors and outdoors (furniture and furnishings and God knows what else). The Fat Bastard was in heaven.
It doesn't matter to him whether he can afford the stuff or not; he has to browse and where possible fondle. And he never, ever, does anything quickly. It drives me insane and from what his TB had to say as we tried to cajole, entice, bribe and bully the Fat Bastard into the section of the store we needed to be in he's experienced Shopping With The Fat Bastard on more than one occasion before.
Well he's now due back from work ... he'll get a bit of a shock to find me and the Infant in the house. He'll be a bit taken aback to find his tent up. He'll be horrified when he realises I expect him to do a few chores this afternoon.
Poor lamb.
Particularly as the Infant is currently using the tent as a play house, which leaves (a) books etc to the charity shop or (b) cleaning his room.
They're stuff, and stuff makes him feel secure. Never mind the quality feel the volume. Stuff, and more stuff.
Actually he's a bit of a joke among his friends which was something else that came out while we were away. They're laughing but they don't have to live with all the stuff ... or the predations on the family finances that go with the acquisition of Stuff.
One of our shopping expeditions was to (boo, hiss) Tesco, currently all seeing, all conquering in the grocery sector. The store isn't bit or large or huge or enormous - it is gargantuan. The downstairs has an electricals department that's about as large as our local supermarket. Then there's the food and groceries and booze. Upstairs they sell clothes and stuff for indoors and outdoors (furniture and furnishings and God knows what else). The Fat Bastard was in heaven.
It doesn't matter to him whether he can afford the stuff or not; he has to browse and where possible fondle. And he never, ever, does anything quickly. It drives me insane and from what his TB had to say as we tried to cajole, entice, bribe and bully the Fat Bastard into the section of the store we needed to be in he's experienced Shopping With The Fat Bastard on more than one occasion before.
Well he's now due back from work ... he'll get a bit of a shock to find me and the Infant in the house. He'll be a bit taken aback to find his tent up. He'll be horrified when he realises I expect him to do a few chores this afternoon.
Poor lamb.
Particularly as the Infant is currently using the tent as a play house, which leaves (a) books etc to the charity shop or (b) cleaning his room.
posted by Enyo @ 1:05 pm
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