I know that all received wisdom on the key to a happy marriage involves never going to sleep on a row. Well, we didn’t. We woke up at around 3.30am and got stuck right into one.
It started quite snoozily, which gave way to incoming snottyness. This was followed by an unanticipated, but overwhelming tsunami of righteous indignation which saw us pulling jumpers on over our PJs, shouting, and then marching onto the stable yard (in slippers) to carry on the row in low hisses so as not to wake the horses and Satan’s handbags … (the miniature Shetlands).
I don’t think I’m unusual in this. I’m not good with big, chunky locks, or any lock that has ‘a knack to it’, for that matter. And my ineptitude with keys was the topic of this particular enervating debate (conducted in acid whispers).
Any lock with a ‘knack’ means I’m pretty much knackered – and locked out. I do try.
JF, finishing our beautiful barn and luxurious tack room facility (now known on the yard as ‘The Hilton’), handed out the keys to his hand crafted metal door with pride. I’ve pretty much never been able to unlock it. Hence the row.
Why hadn’t I told him? he yelled. Truth be told, the last time I mentioned I struggled with the key he told me I simply wasn’t trying, and stood over me while I made furtive attempts to unlock the door. He might as well have given me a blunt spoon.
I yelled back that, the reason I hadn’t told him was because, guess what, he starts yelling that it’s just me not ‘applying myself’, and that, I think, you shouldn’t have to ‘apply yourself’ or ‘really try’ to open a door, you should just turn the ruddy key, first go, and da daah.
So, that went well.
Anyway during the wee small hours’ pyjama-hissing incident we swapped keys. (I struggle with his key too by the way – shhh). We went back to bed. Me in the spare room in high dudgeon, him conciliatory but me having none of it.
As we were snickering about it the following day he put the whole incident down to tiredness. I thought, but didn’t say, ‘well you were in bloody bed when you started (and yes, you did start it, but don’t get me started), so why didn’t you just go back to sleep? (you Muppet).
Now, I’m pretty sure this constitutes both going to sleep on a row, and waking up in one. All very confusing. He’s planning to change the lock, not, I think, because I can’t get in, rather because I’m – just – plain – irritating. He has a point.