(Actually, 'holiday' is NOT a word that I would use myself, more like 'same shit, different place', because contrary to popular belief there isn't an industrious horde of keen little fairies who skip blithely at the chance to load the washing machine, empty the washing machine, hang up the laundry, fold the laundry, put the laundry away, sweep the floors, mop the floors, make the beds, make the breakfast, lunch, tea and supper, and provide non-judgemental, unconditional, instantaneous affection and approval at the drop of a mob-cap... no fairies, just ME. You will notice that the list of chores is dramatically reduced because I was 'on holiday'...
Now before I get emails telling me to pull myself together and stop whinging, the lack of house fairies is not the bit I mind. Really. It is the next bit that makes me want to skewer someone's eyeball through with a blunt knitting needle.
'Whose eyeball would that be?' I hear you ask. Take a wild guess...)
- we were having dinner with a friend when the conversation turned to the credit crunch.
"Women just have to accept..." said The Husband, "that they will have to go out to work now."
Because obviously the whole damn lot of us girls have been malingering at home for the last sixty thousand years, lolling about on chaises longues while scoffing chocolate and gin by the bucketload and having a kip.
And now the world has been forced to its knees in an economic recession because of our lazy, slothful, idle ways...