I’m face down on the bed. I’m not usually a napper, but today I am.
I hear the creaking of boards as my wife makes her way up the stairs. There’s going to be hell to pay if she catches me laying down.
This time I’m safe. She’s not here for me. She’s after a snack, I presume, as I hear the fridge open, the bottles and jars clinking in the shelf on the door.
Then, a sound that I am very familiar with. More like a series of related sounds. They are tricky to explain, but I will try. They build up like an orgasm, and like an orgasm reaching it’s climax, the final sound is impossible to surpress when you want to stay quiet.
It starts like the sound of a sheet of paper rustling or a leaf rake scraping the ground, but quieter. Then a dampened metallic click. Then a high-frequency hiss, like a classmate behind you saying, “Pssst!” whilst trying to get your attention in class. Another metallic scrape, longer this time, and changing in pitch, reverberating a little as it culminates in a sudden whoosh, like the pressure being released from a steam valve.
It’s a beer. She is cracking a beer. As the only breadwinner in this house, that is her right.
A stay at home blogger has no rights. In between rants and storytelling sessions, this Black Sheep has laundry to fold and dinner to make. That’s why I need your help.
This is totally selfish guys. I’m so sorry I have to ask, but I need to get the word out. I don’t know how many followers I need before my wife will let me drink midday beers, but it’s definitely more than I have now. I’m dying of thirst but if I open a beer my wife will hear me. I know she will. Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.
Gotta go. She’s coming back upstairs.