A funny sort of day

It's the second anniversary of discovering the husband's infidelity. I wish now that I hadn't chosen Boxing Day to snoop on his 'spare' mobile phone, but that was when the opportunity presented itself and my intuition had been telling me for some time that there was something going on. If it hadn't been Boxing Day I would have long since forgotten the precise date, but now I get to remember it every year. Woopee. New year's resolution number one: get divorced.

I had a strange journey home from work today too. Oh yes, I have to work Boxing Day and bank holidays. Anyway, my windscreen wiper jets worked on the way home for the first time in about a week after I topped them up with super-duper concentrated stuff. When I say 'I', I mean the STBE-husband did it when he came over to collect little man. Strange again.  Anyway, there I was experiencing a feeling of pure joy at being able to clean the windscreen (I mean it; commuting in this snow and ice is really getting to me), when I saw brake lights ahead. It looked very much like someone had jumped from a bridge over the M6 about five cars in front of me. For me, it was the first time I've ever done a three-point turn in the middle of the motorway.

I'll be glad when the thaw comes. Yes, the snow is very beautiful and yes it's nice to go out and throw snowballs. But when you have to drive in it, it's stressful. I haven't been able to go the shortest route from my house to the main road because the slope is too steep and my heavy tank of a car's wheels spin too much (New year's resolution number two: keep saving for a smaller car). So I have to drive the long way round in thick snow and slush to get to a junction which is slightly less steep but is on a blind bend. And I still can't pull out quickly because my wheels still spin a bit even when I do it in second gear. Then there's been the non-working windscreen wash jets, which means I've had to pull over on the hard shoulder or go into services a couple of times on the way to and from work just to be able to see where I'm going. All in all, not nice.

Back to Christmas Day. Daddy came over while there were still a few pressies left to unwrap. We all went to see the chickens together to give them a festive treat of boiled peelings. Yum. I cooked dinner, he washed up, which is, in my opinion, a perfect division of labour. We had a very nice bottle of Orvieto. Little man ate lots of turkey and very little else. The little fella hugged his new dolls' house and parked his new Cars (the film) racing cars in the attic and made us green cakes in his new toy food processor. Then daddy left and B and I went up to grandma and grandad's, where he made more green cakes, this time with a little brown in them (chocolate!). Now I just need to quietly remove some of his old toys and take them to the charity shop.