Tour of Duty
This weekend is MIL's 60th birthday, and therefore all fun and normal twentysomething activity is suspended from 1600 hours tonight until 2300 hours tomorrow night. During this period, life becomes a battleground for freedom of choice. Normal service will be resumed 0900 hours Monday.
The battleplan is to leave work at 1530, go back to base and change into full battle dress (carefully calculated to make me look like the boho princess I am, and guaranteed to make MIL's friends stay away from me and stare at me like I'm an alien life form sent to earth to steal their sons and show up their wrinkles). Then at 1700, transport arrives to deliver us to the heart of the battleground. Trenches will be dug, positions fortified (DJ tables erected, chairs placed behind them for me and Him, sides sealed against unexpected verbal attack from bores). Battle is expected to commence in full at 1930 hours (with a heavy barrage of 'You must be His new little wife. When are you going to start popping out sprogs and give up work?'). Return fire will be immediately issued with heavy payload (‘I feel that if one has the brain to do well in one’s career, one doesn’t need to sacrifice that to change dirty nappies. Besides, if I was at home all day, how would my husband find me interesting to come home to?’)
It is expected that the battle will rage until around 2330 hours, and it is unlikely that a clear victor will emerge, as I have the greater weaponry, but the other side has greater numbers. At this point a retreat will be ordered back to the trenches (His sister and brother in law, Mars and Venus’s, house). Alas, there are double agents in the camp, Cuck and Riptorn, who may try to obtain some form of cunning petty victory over the minds of Him and I, the intrepid heroes of this tour of duty. Caution must be taken at all times.
R&R back at base from 1100 Saturday until 1700, then this time to the new battleground of the dinner table. A call for diplomatic skills this, but these brave warriors of freedom have always been more skilled with heavy weapons than light barbs. Diplomatic talks are expected to focus on His and my plans to relocate to a new base 400 miles away or more, our refusal to have children, and our refusal to have City jobs. Sniper skills may be necessary, but the order is to shoot to maim, but not to kill (they’re family after all).
Retreat will be ordered at 2300 latest, with a return to base to have wounds dressed and shellshock psychoanalysed. Sunday will be a day of R&R after the heavy battle.
Relationship damage prediction: medium
Chances of survival: medium to high
Enemy casualties predicted: very high
Full casualty report and battle analysis will be issued 1000 hours Monday.
Over and out.
The battleplan is to leave work at 1530, go back to base and change into full battle dress (carefully calculated to make me look like the boho princess I am, and guaranteed to make MIL's friends stay away from me and stare at me like I'm an alien life form sent to earth to steal their sons and show up their wrinkles). Then at 1700, transport arrives to deliver us to the heart of the battleground. Trenches will be dug, positions fortified (DJ tables erected, chairs placed behind them for me and Him, sides sealed against unexpected verbal attack from bores). Battle is expected to commence in full at 1930 hours (with a heavy barrage of 'You must be His new little wife. When are you going to start popping out sprogs and give up work?'). Return fire will be immediately issued with heavy payload (‘I feel that if one has the brain to do well in one’s career, one doesn’t need to sacrifice that to change dirty nappies. Besides, if I was at home all day, how would my husband find me interesting to come home to?’)
It is expected that the battle will rage until around 2330 hours, and it is unlikely that a clear victor will emerge, as I have the greater weaponry, but the other side has greater numbers. At this point a retreat will be ordered back to the trenches (His sister and brother in law, Mars and Venus’s, house). Alas, there are double agents in the camp, Cuck and Riptorn, who may try to obtain some form of cunning petty victory over the minds of Him and I, the intrepid heroes of this tour of duty. Caution must be taken at all times.
R&R back at base from 1100 Saturday until 1700, then this time to the new battleground of the dinner table. A call for diplomatic skills this, but these brave warriors of freedom have always been more skilled with heavy weapons than light barbs. Diplomatic talks are expected to focus on His and my plans to relocate to a new base 400 miles away or more, our refusal to have children, and our refusal to have City jobs. Sniper skills may be necessary, but the order is to shoot to maim, but not to kill (they’re family after all).
Retreat will be ordered at 2300 latest, with a return to base to have wounds dressed and shellshock psychoanalysed. Sunday will be a day of R&R after the heavy battle.
Relationship damage prediction: medium
Chances of survival: medium to high
Enemy casualties predicted: very high
Full casualty report and battle analysis will be issued 1000 hours Monday.
Over and out.
posted by Mookmoo at 1:47 pm
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