Annoyances

So, once again my house has become not a pleasant place to be. I feel I have been really let down by my boys; I just wanted them to waste a couple of hours of their time in memory of the woman who at least gave birth to them (so what if she also gave death to them?). But as it turns out they had better things to do all day, and could not re-arrange their schedules. More important things got in the way, like spending hours on an essay that ought to have been polished off in barely a few minutes, or pining over a former girlfriend, or killing shadowy shapes on the PS2.

I seemed to have adopted an Andrew approach, becoming withdrawn and uncommuniative. This is not a deliberate tactic, it's just the way my emotions and feelings are decreeing me to act. I'm hurt and upset.

Communication happens by the interuption or the non-occurance of usual routines. When the tradition hour for Sunday Lunch came and went, and I didn't fill the kitchen with enticing odours, instead slapping a steak on the George Formby along with some onions and mushrooms and making me and only me a steak sandwich, the boys trickled down one by one and silently found things to eat from the fridge and the cupboards before noiselessly returning to their rooms.

They know they've done wrong, that much is evident. And they know I am in the right. I wonder how long they're going to keep dealing with it in this manner? What happens when the food runs out and the need for money runs in?

They had a responsibility to remember their mother and (as Colin bludgeoned home) a responsibilty to me to help me remember my wife before all those neural pathways degrade and Poppy slips out of my mind. If they can't live up to such a minor responsibility then why should I live up to a single one of the responsibilities I have towards them? That seems like a fair and equitable deal to me.

Already I know Lukas had to do P.E. with a dirty kit yesterday. I doubt he got much of a ribbing as such things mean little to twelve-year-old boys, but I at least hope it felt uncomfortable for him. The devilish part of me cannot wait until he runs out of clean underwear; although with the Lukas mindset this may not occur for several weeks.

Andrew will be the first to break, of that I'm sure. And he'll break by scoulding me for not living up to my parental duties, of that I'm equally sure. This will be the catalyst for an intense discussion about a frenzied number of subjects leaving me the victim of disparaging looks and a prolonged period of the cold shoulder. Heck, I can live with this.

Only Gabriel do I feel slightly sorry for. This could not have come at a worse time for him, with him still smarting over the loss of Lian. Not sure on the latest news of course but I am sure I could have perceived by his manner if a reconciliation had occurred. And from his manner I judge it to have occurred not, so obviously he hasn't taken any notice of my suggested he gets his apology in. If we were on speaking terms I would now be pushing him, telling him how easily girls of this age bounce from partner to partner, to act quickly so not to lose Lian to some other spotty adolescent. But I'm shirking my responsilibities, so it is his look out. Whenever I see him around the house though, it does break my heart a little as he looks like such a lost little boy.

Condequently by adopting this emotional stance lots of things are annoying me that really ought not to be annoying me. Ripley's habit of digging her claws into the settee and pulling herself along the laminate flooring is becoming annoying rather than cute, as practically-speaking it simply depletes the longevity of our furniture; in addition there's her continuing reluctance to perform her defecation outside rather than overnight in her litter tray. Maybe that's what becomes of enter the world during the winter months; one acquires one's habits based on the conditions of your formuative moments. Whatever, we have a kitty who possesses a great reluctance to ever venture outside and shake a paw with the burgeoning spring.

Colin annoys me, as he remains in my house and on my sofa, unemployed and seemingly unenthusiastic about anything, aside from his evening expeditions, of which I do not truly believe their truthfulness. I can't kick him out as yet (and I apologise if this seems appallingly selfish of me) as he's (hopefully) organised our little trip to Germany in about eleven days. Part of me hopes for a reconcilliation between him and Maria, or that the re-entry into his life of his little girls may spark some feelings of doubt that he's following the correct path (not that there have been many signs of that so far).

His days are numbered, anyhow. I've enjoyed having him around to a certain extent but this is a house (just) designed for four people, not five. Once we have returned from Germany my foot cometh downeth.

And then there's Sarah, the woman who prefers watching non-celebrities dancing amateurishly on ice to speaking to me. The woman who's hinted she'd be at least willing maybe to pursue at least the idea of a potential relationship between us, but then uses the excuse of one hundred and fifty miles of crow's flight to stop any possible connection from flowing freely. Maybe I need to get down to Southampton and see - if anywhere - this thing is going.

Hey, that's not such a bad idea, even if it is Southampton. My frosty-atmosphered house is not in Southamption, which is one thing that makes it not a bad idea, anyway. I could do with some time away from ... here.