‘Ever feel like you’re living in a sitcom?
This actually happened last Sunday at our house.
At just after midday.
Background:
I write at home on Sunday morning.
A 2 year old Izobel distracted me for a couple of hours which is fine of course.
But it did affect my schedule.
So I was – inside – slightly tense as I went downstairs to make some toast.
And couldn’t find the butter.
Me:
Where’s the butter?
Lisa:
It’s in the fridge.
Me:
Where?
(I was was conscious of my entirely undeserved, curt, monosyllabic tone with Lisa.
But I didn’t deviate.)
Me:
I can’t find it!
Lisa (slightly higher pitch but still relaxed):
It’s in the fridge door!
Me (holding up butter):
Is it this one?
Lisa (Still slightly screechy but in control):
Yes! That’s the butter!
Lisa again, this time lower:
Anchor.
Now; I didn’t hear this last word clearly…
I thought she’d said, in her then lowered voice… something else.
I paused for a moment.
But said nothing.
And after I had buttered my toast I wandered back upstairs.
Smiling and reflecting on how something so trivial could have escalated, just because Lisa mentioned the brand name of the butter.
At least – I think that’s what she said.
