This morning Mr Moi got up at 4am, as he does once every week or two, to head to the airport. I used to wake up, like FULLY wake up, at this time, but since I’m now more than seven months pregnant, not even my screaming almost-3-year-old can wake me up (usually this is for the purpose of asking for her dummy at 3.15am, which is inevitably about 2 cms from her head, on her bed).
Anyhoo. Mr Moi was pottering around in the kitchen and I was dozing. And at about the time that I’m usually about to yell at him to “Turn off the effing light and leave*!”, he will miraculously leave and I get on with my sleeping.
Well today we hit the critical moment, and just as I was about to yell at him to “Turn off the effing light and leave*!”, he in fact came into the bedroom and turned on the light that is over the bed, and asked me in quiet, soothing tones, “Babe, have you seen my wallet?”
And then his mobile rang in my ear to alert him to the presence of the cab outside, and I was well and truly awake.
Now Mr Moi went to the pub after work last night to have a couple of quiet beers. I don’t begrudge him this because in a couple of months he will become my indentured slave for the forseeable future, bringing me snacks and remote controls and icy glasses of water while I grump my way through the never ending cycle of newborn/first three months breastfeeding. So I am glad for him to get his socialising neatly packaged up for the rest of the year right now, thank you very much.
However, I completely GRUDGE him this pleasure when he chooses to lose his wallet the evening before he has a pre-sparrow-fart flight where one would assume he needs to use the contents of that said wallet a number of times in order to actually get to the flight, and then get on it.
* Code for, “I love you dear and have a safe trip!”