So after the shock of discovering that his wife of many years has four webbed toes (across two feet, I'm not a freak), the husband has been staring at me in a way which says, 'What next?' Well I am sporting a rather lovely bruise on my forehead, which I cautiously asked him about yesterday afternoon.
'Well my love', he began slowly. 'I expect you got that when you dived headfirst into the back of son number two's car when he collected us from the pub on Saturday evening. You were wedged in the foot well for some time. Just as well you had trousers on....'
Aah. So not only could I not remember doing this, I couldn't really remember getting the lift home. Son number two took complete advantage of my inebriation (bloody Prosecco, I never learn) and managed to get a tank of fuel out of me. I blame this on the fact that I was wedged into his car like an apple in a yoghurt pot, and was unable to stop him as he reached for my purse. He also managed to get the husband to pay for his and ELL's Chinese takeaway on the way home. It would have been cheaper for the husband and I to have called Lewis Hamilton and asked him to take a quick detour to the Red Lion on his way to China, than to rely on the kindness of family. Never mind, I'll remember next time.
To be fair, the husband and I did slightly get our own back by trawling through the takeaway bag and eating a couple of chicken balls in the car on the way home while chortling wildly. Son number two's face was one of disbelief, as apparently, he never eats in his car. Well of course he doesn't. He saves it all for eating in his bedroom, leaving scraps on the floor for any lucky vermin who might be in the vicinity. God forbid a crumb might fall on his brushed velour floor mats.
A small confession at this time. Try to imagine working your way through a bag of prawn crackers with six inch arms. I can't guarantee that every single one made my mouth in its entirety, so son number two's car might start smelling like that famous Chinese restaurant Foo King Phatt before too long.
But why were the husband and I in such a state, I hear you ask. Well, I finally managed to buy my next car from someone who took me, my part exchange and my wallet seriously. I've only got to wait five weeks before it's ready. I have to keep reminding myself that patience is a virtue.
It's also a complete pain in the arse...