The Holidays are Over. Damn it.

We spent our last day by meeting my brother and sister in law in Lygon Street for a leisurely lunch and then went over to Kensington to catch up with a friend of the Squeeze's that I know, but meeting him encompassed meeting a cast of thousands.  Of those, I knew no one.  All nice, but I was not unaware that this is the family of the "soul mate" from the Squeeze's 20's.

I was secretly amused when the uncle mentioned that the 20 year old soulmate; was now a 'House Frou” - uncertain of the spelling – uncertain what the hell it is but it sounds utterly gleeful!  I had to clarify that it meant someone who has settled into “comfortable” prior to smirking for the rest of the day. 

Soul mate my arse.

So a day filled with lively conversation and champagne at both stops – can’t be all bad!  Then we came home to the land of the clean freak where my daughter and her boyfriend had hijacked the tv and I forced myself not to whine as I glanced at the little things that normal people just don’t notice.  The black finger print on the outside of the bathroom door…  The speckle of fat on the hot plates…

I soldiered on and kept my silence but as I sat down to dinner, asked how the house was they had gone to view on the weekend.  This was followed by the boyfriend saying “in other words, hustle and move out…”  I mentioned that was a given and I didn’t have to use subtlety; I’d just say move it.  And I’d be pleased for them to have their own place.  Pleased for them and pleased for me!

As we showered and got ready for bed, I realised that the squeeze and I had just spent 3 whole weeks with each other.  24/7.  Not only that, but as this is the end of our holiday, either of us quite easily could have chosen to stay home alone tonight – (well him with boy 1 who doesn’t live at home and me with girl and boyfriend…) 

I sat on the other side of the room and sent him an email that said:

“3 weeks together…  And I didn’t even stab you.”

This is romance, squeeze style.