Sunday snitch

I worked today.

I didn't work last Sunday and it was a bit of a shock to discover how boring it was not to work. It wasn't much comfort to discover that the person who covered for me found the whole experience slightly traumatic.

Sunday brings the gossips in and I had a chance to speak with someone who works with the Fat Bastard during the week.

I wasn't, as it happens, all that keen on a conversation on the subject of the Fat Bastard. My housewifely zeal has been met with an equal (or perhaps superior) but opposite force: Fat Bastard in Full Slob Mode. So last night, after he'd fucked off to the pub leaving the dishes undone and after the infant had been shepherded complaining all the way to her bed I came downstairs and gathered up all the crap the pair of them had dumped during the course of the day into a pile in the centre of the lounge room floor.

When the Fat Bastard came down stairs this morning, as I was getting ready to go to work upstairs, he got his first glimpse of this pile and he wasn't best pleased if the slamming of doors was anything to go by. Presumably he hadn't seen the pile last night (or early this morning) through the alcoholic fog by that time surrounding him.

So obviously I'd made a mistake ... picked the wrong day. Because the infant by the time I came downstairs to intercede was sitting on the floor huddled in her dressing gown looking completely distressed.

I did my best for her. Once he realised that his gargantuan sulk had accomplished its end - which is to say I was now feeling like a wreck for having had the temerity to point out to him that his habits disgust me - he was perfectly happy, charming and reasonable; and quite safe to leave the infant with.

I knew that this was happening: slam enough doors and I'll grovel and let him believe I've come to realise how much in the wrong I was to call him up for anything. It is his standard grade tactic for evading responsibility for his own actions.

Anyway, I wasn't in the mood for anything by the time I got to work. The day was slow though and I fell into conversation with his colleagues who happened to be in.

Seems back on Monday the Fat Bastard's boss went out into the back office and lost his temper at the state the Fat Bastard keeps his section in - I'm told the boss swept all the crap off the shelving and desk space onto the floor and kicked it about. Funnily enough, while he's usually all to keen to share his Boss's idiosyncratic behaviour with me I didn't hear diddly about this incident.

I guess he's feeling rather put upon at the moment, poor lamb!