Exercising my inner bitch.

I've had such a busy few days, and as a result, I am tired, cranky and acting like a cow. We spent Monday at my mothers on the coast, splashing about in the waves like a 5 year old, eating home cooked food and playing silly board games. It was just like old times, and it made me miss my hometown with a vengeance, which bothers me slightly. I spent so many years trying to get away from that place, and now I have, I miss the simplicity like crazy. I'm hoping it's just a 'stage' - I apparently went through so many of those growing up, so maybe I will grow out of this one, too.

Yesterday Chef & I took the dogs to the beach again, closer to home, and poked and prodded all the washed up jelly fish. We came home, settled in with Pay It Forward on DVD (I've been wondering about that ever since I saw an episode about it on Oprah...) and there was a knock at the door. Once we'd shoved the dogs in the kitchen, we answered the door and there was an Indian guy talking about milkmen. Turns out they're bringing back the 'old days' and having a local produce man, selling milk, eggs, vegies etc, so we placed an order basically to shut this guy up (he was a good salesman, I'll give him that) and he then asked for a lift somewhere! The nerve of this bloke! He'd been banging on about 'who was the man of the house' and giggling like he was hilarious, and how I'd have to get Chef to put the cooler bag out front on delivery days because for some reason I would be incapable of doing so myself. I chose to ignore these comments, and the ones about how I needed to buy full cream milk as I was too thin to walk my two dogs. Hmm.

Anyway, off point.

Chef and Indian Milk Man went out to his car, so I called Mum for a gossip (and to ask whether I should call the cops or not) and for some reason... out came my Inner Bitch. I unleashed it. I exercised it. It was free to roam... and I therefore had a tantrum about having nothing to eat. And for once Chef didn't just sit and give me the silent treatment for being a narky cow, he got up and left. And returned. Put on a lovely Cameron Diaz chick flick, gave me an armful of gerbera's and lillies, a bottle of Black Douglas & a bottle of Jim Beam, and the ingredients for a beautiful roasted vegetable lasagne. Apparently some random woman in the supermarket saw him with the flowers & alcohol, and asked him home with her, with comments about how lovely he was and 'why can't my boyfriend be like you' etc.

Just like the day before, when he cooked me sweet chilli & plum sausages with pasta salad for a typical beach barbeque. And when he let me drive his nice car, and sing along with love song dedications at the top of my horrible singing voice while he was trying to sleep. Like when he gave up his sleep on his day off to take me home because I miss my mum. Sigh...

I really must pay attention to this Pay It Forward thing. I really need to learn to be a nice person.