It was the drugs talking

It was a strangely mixed day, rather like the universe couldn't make up its mind which way it was going to go. The opening salvo was day three of the worst migraine imaginable, one of those that start in the right occipital lobe and travel to the eye via the longest route it can find. It's the kind that is quite unresponsive to the migraine medication in any meaningful way. Oh one is up, but the vision in the right eye is spotty and the will to live is weak.

To make matters worse one had to go to work... they were so short staffed there was no one else and besides, the script was finished and one needed another repeat. He was very kind and took one, without charging his usual premium transportation fee. Though one does suspect the interest on the tab went up a couple of points. For a change one was too sick to quibble.

About halfway through the morning, just as one was contemplating dying, the little bus friend popped her head round the door and said I'm getting a lift home this afternoon, do you want a ride. At that moment she looked more like Glenda the Good Fairy than anyone human. So after work one strolled up to her latest place of employment, via the bag shop to buy His mother a new wallet for Mother's Day, to wander round her shop looking at jeans.

As it turned out it was a very good time to do so. They were having a sale and one managed to score two pairs for half price. And more importantly they were in a colour one could live with. You know one never realised how fussy one was about jean colours and washes, until having to replace them three times in under a year. Or maybe it is that the manufacturers have just brought out shit colours this season... seriously who wants sky blue denim or worse that all over navy colour?

Anyway as one finally crawled through the door, she had the close from hell and it was way later than intended, one found a note from Him. Wake me if you need KFC. Honestly one would have killed for spicy fried chicken, but refrained knowing that He was probably sleep derived enough. The offer was beyond kind though. In fact one might have fallen a little bit more in love with the man right there on the spot. Cupboard love... see it's real J

Sitting there, recounting the day, one watched as His face started to get that smile...

What are you thinking?

Oh I was just thinking that I'm going to enjoy watching you beg to wear those new jeans, He replied

What is your issue with the jeans?

I prefer something with easier access He said, as though it was the most reasonable answer on earth

But you said one can wear the rock star jeggings (there's Word lighting up again) at any time without permission. What's the difference?

Because I said so

But that is illogical. Not to mention inconsistent. A twoo master is never inconsistent... Fet says so one added sounding smug

Now one admits that might not have been an A grade answer, but one was nearly asleep as one sat there...

He turned, beaming that dazzling smile with gently gaping jaws and said I can be as inconsistent as I like. Just watch me. Otherwise it will be skirts only... forever.

Sighs you know the debates on Fet never go this way... at all L