Whenever I entered a room at home this morning, Mark hushed whoever he’s talking to on the phone, and then pretended he was not on the phone at all. He’s a very bad liar; I should be disappointed on his behalf.
I shall mention what I got today: from Auntie I got, earlier this week, a gift card for books at a local bookshop; and from Mum I got a new pair of shoes, sensible ones along with a box of sweets; and from Dad I got a travel agent voucher.
Will I seem ungrateful and uncharitable if I jumped up and down and squealed about the voucher, while I did no such thing about the other things? It’s not like I’m not grateful and thankful for the other things, but it’s a flipping travel voucher!
Mark and I have already decided that we want to go to Berlin later this spring. At first, we thought about Paris, but then we decided that we wanted something new and exciting. Not that Paris isn’t exciting, but Berlin is more so because it would be new.
That is, when I can talk to him without seeing him attempt to keep things from me. My man’s brain may be overcharged and over-clocked, but he’s terrible at social things like lying and deceiving, even if it is for a charity case like my birthday.
Right now I’m having a 1990s birthday disco for myself here in this dull library. No, I haven’t jumped up on the table to shake my arse in the direction of the librarian with the big glasses. Yet. I’m tempted. She keeps giving me annoyed looks. When you listen to 1990:s disco, you need the volume on loud.