For years now, Fitty and I have engaged in banter about me coming “in to the office” –  a vague promise of future support should he need it, followed by Fitty’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, remembering the few times he has put me in a work-related stress situation.

Like calling home from his office to ask me to transfer a file that went rogue –

F – “I just need you to log into my home computer and transfer a file.”

M – “World of NO..”

F  – “Fuck’s sake, I really need it!…… What’s wrong….?”

M – “Nothing – what…. what do I need to do?” *Increasing anxiety

F – “Okay-log-into-my-computer-the-password-is-somethingincrediblynerdyandfuckingtechnical.”

M –

His password’s are so ridiculously technical that he makes me think whatever task he is asking me to perform is way above anything my anxiety can deal with. True story.

That particular time he rang home resulted in an epic argument over the phone about why I’m so fucking useless, (me agreeing spitefully), and why am I such a stress-head when it comes to (him making me) tour areas of the computer that make me feel like I could push one wrong key and destroy the earth?

Obvious answer – because Fitty is a shit teacher who begins instruction at rocket scientist level.

Also his “right” is NEVER my “right.”

Statement’s I make, like “because your right is my left right now” baffle him. (Science doesn’t know shit when it comes to my anxiety!) The whole concept of “where am I” completely changes the second my worry-wart side steps up. Fitty, however expects me to be able to tell him I’m facing NE or SE or some of those other directions I sometimes face..

Fitty doesn’t worry. He is as laid-back as you can be whilst breathing, (most of the time), but of the few areas that boil his blood, work stress is a clear winner. 1 and 4 have both warned me that he can be Satan at work, and that I should probably wear a helmet if I ever go “in to the office.”

So you would expect that we would still be chatting about me “coming into the office” right?

Nope – something has changed, actually some things are about to change big-time for me – the lady who has sat at home for far too long, spending all our cash on paint and sandpaper. My most complex task being that of matching up recipe’s with current pantry stock and figuring out which nights I can get away with calling “scratch-dinner!” (Which means everyone fights for the last packet of noodles or can of baked beans- loser’s eat toast.)

For a start – I have to tell you about Fitty and our 10 year anniversary, which sparked the most curious thing? (I think this is where the “thing” began.)

I was minding my own business one morning, out on the balcony with the birds and Pooh, when I got a *ping* on the phone. Was Fitty. Was romancing me on Facebook. Wishing me a happy 10 years “luv”, which thankfully didn’t look like this –


(For years, we as a family have been seeking an intervention for Fitty’s birthday and celebratory salutations, coded in Fitty shorthand.)

*Under “digress” in the dictionary there is a side-note with my name listed, just so you know….

Anyway – I was filled with a rush of warmth – that wasn’t a hot flush – and responded with a mushy comment. From that moment on our day played out just like a day from the first weeks’ of our relationship.

I believe I may be falling in love with my man all over again!

I have found it to be factual that relationships have high’s and low’s. Fitty and I are currently entering a “high” phase, and I’m milking the fuck outta that, so I have some feels to fall back on when we get to the next low.

It’s not surprising that we are getting along well, laughing and kissing a lot, and spending lots of time together. It is surprising to me, that he has chosen right now to ask me to come “in to the office.” More surprises? My new boss has not once behaved in an inappropriate manner and I am kinda shattered that he doesn’t sweep the desk clean the second we are alone and throw me down upon it – I guess it’s the filing nightmare stopping him, but you’d think he’d be more considerate wouldn’t you?

*totes appropriate

*totes appropriate

Also, it seems he only wants me to “piss around and do this and that” in between long bouts of watching him work. Which is fine by me, only I kind of wanted to work, not Facebook live from the office?

I’m sure we’ll work it all out in the long run, but in the meantime I’m feeling like a young woman in the first flush of love, and I’m pretty much acting like one too.


Breaking News: 6 is moving out and I’m terrified! He’s 18 but he’s my baby and I’m thinking Fitty has masterminded a way for me to be too busy at work to sit at home crying into the dirty T-shirt and sock pile that 6 will inevitably leave behind?

nearly empty nest face

*nearly empty nest face

I am feeling a huge amount of thankful for the fact that I still have 7 and 8 every other week, and that they allow me to mother the shit out of them despite having a perfectly mental satisfactory mother of their own.