The secret diary of a single parent bloke
I seemed to have finished everything early tonight, and was sitting in the living room. And I was bored, as I was most nights. Kat’s got the TV on: soaps and phone-to-vote-out-the-hasbeen-celebrity type shows- both of which I loath. She’s not interested in talking, or in any way interacting with me. If I want to watch something else, tough. If I want to use the computer, I’m accused of ignoring my wife. Reading a book is also antisocial. So what can I do- nothing! I sit there like a zombie and do nothing. I’ve had a couple of whisky’s- it’s about the only thing that’s allowed.
Oddly, Kat’s still awake- she’s normally asleep on the sofa long before now. And she’s had some drinks too. I’m not even sure why, but she gets up and starts a tirade of abuse, about how I make her life hell, and how could she go on living with someone like me, and didn’t I care about what I was doing to her. She suddenly stormed out.
A few seconds later, she came back in with the big knife out of the kitchen, pressed against her wrist. “I’ll do it!” she shouted, “is that what you want?”.
As I write this, I’m surprised that I kept my cool (maybe that was the whisky), but I just walked up to her, took the knife away, put it back in the kitchen, and told her to go to bed. The oddest thing then happened: she went to bed. No argument or comment- she just went to bed. I don’t think for one second that she intended to harm herself, it seemed to be done for effect.
But I do know two things:
1. She is clearly unstable, and not somebody I wanted to around the children.
2. She would never have put the knife back in the kitchen neatly.