We were on the phone earlier today, nattering about our mis-spent youth and generally setting the world to rights (as you do) when I suddenly, without prior warning, screamed the words ‘YOU BAD, BAD BITCH!!’ down the line at her.
Now, at this point I might mention that Amanda is indeed a bad, bad bitch and that for at least sixteen hours of each day, on at least six days out of seven, she will be doing something for which the accusation ‘ Bad, Bad Bitch’ will be extremely apt and fitting.
This particular moment in time, though, as I do not have a videophone and was mercifully unaware of any badness she may have been perpetrating during our call, the words were not directed at her. They were directed at Mad Dog. I had strolled into the boudoir and discovered Mad Dog wallowing knee-deep in the remains of my duvet. This is ‘2010 Duvet Mark IV’. She has already reduced three duvets to their original state this year, and she started work on number four a few weeks ago, but I’m heartily sick of buying new duvets and the nice people in Argos are starting to think I’m a bit odd, so I’ve been ignoring the inroads she’s made so far.
I can’t ignore it any longer, though. She’d had so long an opportunity today, whilst Amanda and I were rabbiting, that tonight I shall be sleeping with a two-inch wide strip of fluff-leaking cotton draped across my shoulder blades.
I really want a feather duvet too – but can you imagine? It’d look like the Texas Chicken Massacre. 😦