It’s Tuesday morning and I am getting the kids ready for school. I’m desperately searching for my daughter’s shoes when I notice my wife mooching about behind the car. She sees me, smiles and gives me the wanker hand sign.
I open the window.
“Why are you doing that?” I ask.
“It’s sign language for: Are you working from home today?”
This is quite insulting. Not every freelancer spends all day at home masturbating. Just for the record, I am working from home and I wasn’t planning on enjoying myself. But now she’s planted a seed. This is what happens when you get to my age. People have to remind you to masturbate. It’s like being reminded to feed the fish.
I carry on looking for the shoes but my mind is wandering. I’m trying to see how I can bend my schedule to accommodate this new development. It’s tricky and I even catch myself letting out a loud, desperate sigh.
There are several pitfalls that I’m trying to avoid. My wife is driving them to school. I can’t do it as soon as they leave because my wife might forget something and return. Eventually, I settle on a safe time, and if you work from home regularly, you’ll know exactly what that time is. Making a concrete decision lightens my mood and I congratulate myself on being flexible in an emergency.
“Are they ready?” asks my wife.
“They’re both ready,” I say and proudly point to two children wearing matching shoes.
“Are you ok?” she asks.
“Yes,” I reply. “Why?”
“You’re smiling,” she says and eyes me suspiciously.
“What time are you back from work?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she replies. “It could be any time.”
She’s on to me. To be honest, I don’t really want one, but I’ve put it in the diary now.
They leave. I lock the door and go into my office.
I click open my inbox and start sifting through my work emails. My mind wanders. If I get it over and done with now, then I can get on with my day unhindered. But I’m in the danger zone. My wife could come back at any moment.
I start the process.
My phone rings.
“Hi, it’s me,” announces my wife, bright and breezy.
“What do you want?”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I say. “I’m just feeding the fish.”
“Would you like me to come back and help you feed the fish.” she says suggestively.
I look at my schedule and sigh.