“Could you ever shift the table from the front room to the back?” says Herself.
“What table?” says I more cheerily than I felt. I know how these things go.
“Don’t be smart! There’s only the one.”
“So where to I put it in the back room?”
“In front of the radiator where everyone can see it.”
“But there’s no space there and anyway that’s where the dog has her dinner dish.”
“Too bad about the dog, and of course there’s space.”
“But it wil look completely out of place, like a spare prick at a wedding.”
“Just do it! Okay?”
The table in the front room is covered in clutter so I had to find somewhere to put it all if I shifted the table. I hauled out a spare folding table and moved all the clutter onto it. I hauled the now empty table through to the back room. There wasn’t space for it as there was a heater in the way. I moved the heater to the front of the house [and it’s damned heavy]. I rearranged stuff as best I could, according to instructions from above [Herself was staying well out of the way in the upstairs room until I had finished]. The dog’s dish is now at the other end of the room.
I announced that all had been moved, and that I had followed her instructions to the letter.
She came out of hiding and inspected the work.
“Jayzus but that looks terrible! It looks completely out of place, like a spare prick at a wedding.”
“And the dog can’t eat her dinner because you’ve moved her dish. You know how she likes routine and hates things to be moved. The poor thing is starving and upset.”
“It’ll have to go back the way it all was.”
I get 90% of my daily exercise from sighing.