Monday, 19 December 2011
I do believe H and I travel too much.
Now, how did I come to this realization? Was it something the Minis said? Well, no, although they do scream, "Daddy" when they see a suitcase.
Was it when my friend was over last week and asked me if I was wearing airplane socks? No, not that either.
It was when I opened the mailbox today. And guess who sent me a Christmas card?
And in the attached first class mailer was a copy of Richard Branson's latest book.
Yes, a 372 page novel.
That I'm actually looking forward to reading once these bloody holidays are over and the Nannies come back to work. Oops, I digress.
Back to the book. I think it's a sign. Whether that sign is good or bad, well that remains to be seen. Upgrades, anyone?
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Hi Y'all. Gonna red up that there room and then brush my tooth.
Yes it's really me, Fancy Pants here. Just thought I would alter my diction to match my appearance. Would you like to know what I'm wearing right now? Yes, I thought you would. Shall we start at the bottom?
Red Christmas socks. Above those are cropped terry cloth black "leisure" bottoms. Yes, that is a brown sweatshirt from the now defunct Pop Tart shoppe in New York. Oh, correct. No bra. But do you like my designer eyeglasses? Do they go nicely with last night's makeup and my as-yet-uncombed hair?
Okay, now I know you are all wondering. Has Fancy lost her mind? Is she ill? Has there been a death in the family?
No. Relax. It's worse.
The cleaning lady is sick.
I have company coming over this evening.
It's not pretty. Thank God Nanny #1 has the Minis out for the day and Fancy PA is upstairs addressing Christmas cards.
It's the holidays. No one should be allowed to vomit.
This is all particularly painful because H just finished complaining to Fancy Therapist about my "comfortable" clothes I wear to bed. And apparently to scrub toilets. Good thing he's out of town this week and can't see what's going on here.
Of course, he dresses more "Elmo had 4 ducks" than "Zegna." But still. Being Fancy all the time is simply impossible. And I guarantee his idea of a "maid" costume and the one I'm currently wearing are very, very different.
Okay, back to work. What exactly is the difference between bathroom Cif and kitchen Cif?
Monday, 5 December 2011
So back to my story. 2.5 hours of therapy. That’s right, Fancy Therapist actually cleared his calendar for the morning. That’s what kind of attention H gets when we can actually drag him, kicking and screaming, into FT’s office.
I really don’t know why he fights it. He always comes out such a nicer husband.
Anyway, I have to tell you, I learned a lot in those two and a half hours. Yes, and now I’d like to share with you what I feel was the most important lesson gleaned from half a day on a leather sofa. Are you ready?
Apparently Fancy here should be wearing black stiletto boots at all times.
Yes. It’s true. At least when my husband is in the room.
I really had no idea. And what is worse is that ever since the Fancy Clean Out, H has been suffering in silence. I guess when I threw out my old pleather boots and failed to replace them, I did horrible damage to our marriage. Never mind that they were terribly uncomfortable. Or that I was just waiting for the Fall sales to replace them.
No, it seems that standing or walking isn’t the priority. And as FT aptly pointed out, I’m in a very fortunate position to be able to buy myself as many pairs of black boots as I possibly can stuff into my new closet.
Thank God we went for that appointment and I learned how distraught H was. I know. It breaks my heart.
So, like a good wife, I’ve been hard at work. I’m now up one pair of Jimmy Choos and some gorgeous Alexander McQueens. Oh, and I grabbed a pair of Kenneth Cole while I was in the States. Lest I need to go muck out a barn or something. Would hate to get cow shit on real leather.
Oh, it’s hard to be a good Fancy wife.