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Tuesday, 26 October 2010

The Work of the Devil

I spent a most enjoyable weekend with my beloved and my son, who returned to the family home from the further reaches of Cuba St. in Wellington.  We went for a walk down the Hutt River by Akatarawa

 (actually, it's a measure of how long I've been in NZ that I can spell that without looking it up) with the little dog.  Thoroughly enjoyed it.  We had a lovely dinner of Roast Mutton (cooked with a special marinade that is just superb) then I drove my son back into Wellington,
When I returned, I was aware of a certain iciness in the atmosphere.
What had I done?

I quickly checked the little things that all married men do as a routine.
Fly undone?  No
Farted in last 5 minutes?  No
Forgotten Birthday?  No
Forgotten Wedding Anniversary?  No
Forgotten Engagement Anniversary?  (I kid you not)  No
Forgotten to give little kiss on returning?  No
Forgotten to put out rubbish?  No
Forgotten to dry up dishes and put away in the exact and proper place for each?  No
Drunk?  No
Lipstick on shirt?  No

Everything seemed OK, so I did what all married men do in this situation, I ignored it, sat down and watched TV with my beloved.

Do not under any circumstances actually ASK what is wrong.  That way lies madness, sadness, grief, pain and possibly tears.  It might even escalate to having a discussion about "feelings" or "the state of the relationship" or even duration/quality/frequency of sex.  Be warned.

After the program had finished it was 9:30, and I thought I'd check my email and blogs before showering and bed.  (I have to get up at 5:30).
As I sat down at the computer (it's in the corner of the living room) I was aware of a re-doubling of the iciness in the atmosphere.  I quickly checked and shut down.

Then my beloved explained why she was upset.  Our son, whom she hadn't seen for 4 weeks had spent almost all of his non-eating and drinking time on the computer, watching streaming videos and TV shows.
I spent far too much time emailing, blogging and working ( I am an ICT teacher) on that bloody electronic mistress (pointing at my poor little PC)
Because I had a computer in the house, it was obviously my fault that my son spent all his free time on the web.


Years of experience came immediately to the fore.

Forget reason or logic.  This is a woman we're dealing with.

I apologised profusely.  It was all my fault.  I shouldn't have bought it in the first place.  My son was an idiot, ignoring his mum that way.  I would make sure to disable the computer before his next visit.  I wouldn't use the computer as much when I got home from school, etc., etc., etc.
Yes, it was completely spineless, but it worked.  Peace reigned.  The atmosphere warmed.  Cuddles in bed showed all was right in the Universe again.

Until next time.

If I start cycling too much, will my bike have been possessed by Satan?

We'll see.


  1. I feel your wife's pain. All my son wants to do when he is awake is be attached to the computer - unlike her I have no one else but him to take this pain out on. He is subjected to much moaning about his activities. I think I am preparing him for married life remarkably well.

  2. Well done Fflur. Living in a constant stae of whining and nagging is preparing Bennett for life with women. All you have to do to complete the process is to
    1. Demand that he pays $5000 for a silly bit of metal and crystallised Carbon.
    2. Drag him along on extended (5+ hour) shopping expeditions for a pair of shoes that you don't really need, of just the right shade of a faded purple gray. or blue or whatever
    3. Start an argument. It doesn't really matter what initiates it as long as it's completely trivial. Don't argue logically, but throw in lots of extraneous reasoning. Cry.
    4. Insist that Bennett ALWAYS and WITHOUT exception leave the toilet seat down.

    When Bennett starts to look really depressed and/or starts to twitch, the process is complete.


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