VB man came back with more gifts today – this time a kilo of Danes coffee (nice) – and as he doesn’t own a coffee plunger I somehow ended up with him in my house on my sofa (still not sure how that happened), with me making him coffee while wearing my jammies. Happily I was not sporting the little red number but instead, the candy pink cats and my old lady sweater (less awkward, I’m sure you’ll agree).
I’m thinking that I’m a bit too nice to waifs and strays.
He was loaded. Man, I feel for the guy, he’d spent the day at work sporting a new haircut and his colleagues were giving him grief so I think he’d downed a few of his precious long necks to make himself feel better. I didn’t feel threatened or anxious with him there but as he relaxed he started swearing up a blue streak (when he could keep a grip on his train of thought)… and while honestly, I can drop the f-bomb in dire emergencies when it appears in every other phrase it’s a bit much for me.
All and all, while I’m not feeling too uncomfortable with him at the moment I am worried about the increasing frequency of his little visits… What to do girls and boys??