Where I go from here......the spare room?

Bloomin' heck!  Retirement.....that's for old folk, right?  Well it seems its for me too, this big life changing new phase.  Grumpy Trousers has a three year head start on me so he's well happy with his routine.  That I'm about to disrupt!

I think he sees my retirement as having a hand-grenade chucked into his world.  He wasn't happy for a few days until we had 'the talk' about what adjustments both of us were having to make.  I don't relish the thought of being with him 24/7 any more than he does - in fact the thought of it makes me cranky and I am fighting the urge to be rather unpleasant to him.  That's so WRONG isn't it?  But if he will insist on closing the bedroom window on a humid, sticky night the results are me heating up like a furnace with hot flushing and becoming itchy, witchy and bitchy.  All at once!

(image nicked from http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health)

Since his triple heart bypass operation three years ago Grumpy Trousers body temperature is much lower than mine.  I have occasional resurgence of menopause symptoms so am always hot.  Therefore, closing a bedroom window on such a night was bound to have a negative effect. He can always burrow under the duvet, but I can't get any cooler even if I'm bloody buck naked!  I huffily flounced off into the spare room, almost tore the window from hits hinges to get some air in, then realised all his crap paperwork was on the bed.  With one sweep of my arm, it scattered all over the floor in order for me to throw myself on the bed.  I shouldn't have been so worked up but (now, is this familiar to you yet?) being overheated brings on hormonal headaches that bang inside my skull.  In hindsight, I should have given myself a cool sponge down in the bathroom, but hormonal headaches prevent me from thinking clearly.  So in the spare room I remained, with a bottle of water and my Kindle, eventually soothed by a cool caressing breeze that gently wafted the curtains and sent me to sleep.

Grumpy Trousers misses me sleeping alongside him far more than I miss him.  He takes comfort from my warmth; but unfortunately I don't take comfort from his snoring, coughing, wheezing, belching and farting that keep me awake.

This is all pointing to separate rooms isn't it?  I don't want it to come to that.  Occasionally is fine, but even I would hate it to become permanent.  I'll compromise on the belching and farting, and the snoring at a push, but the coughing and wheezing needs to be addressed.

Guess who will be the one to ring the doctor?

Husbands and their erm... noisy habits

Grumpytrousers had me in hysterics this morning.  Literally!

At first I just wanted to hurl things at him, followed swiftly by yelling at him to "Sod off!!"  The reason being, he makes noises.  All men make noises, but age 60+ men seem to make more noise than their younger counterparts.  When I say noise, he's not playing Whitesnake at 115 decibels (that's me), or hammering and drilling.  No he coughs, blows his nose, sneezes and farts.  It can be any on that list and often accompanied by the last one!

On Mondays I begin work at 1pm so its my one leisurely morning where I take breakfast a little late, then watch a couple of programmes on TV before I go for my shower and get ready. One of these programmes (ah go on then - I confess it's Homes Under The Hammer)  fascinates me.  I enjoy seeing how a buyer turns an almost derelict property into something modern, clean and habitable.  Towards the end of the feature they give valuations for the done up property, and the one I was keen to see this morning was a cottage in Cornwall.  For some reason at this exact time, as often happens it was husbands cue to exit the man-cave, walk past the TV at the point of the valuation, blowing his nose and completely obliterating the information I'd been waiting for. Except this morning he not only blew his nose but farted loudly at the same time so all I could make out were the lips moving of the guy on the telly.  No price, just lips moving.

I shot Grumpytrousers such a look which stopped him in his tracks. "What?" he asked, scratching his head and completely oblivious.

"Must you?" I asked mournfully.

"What did I do?" he wanted to know.

"Blowing your nose and farting!"

"I can't help it, it's my condition!"

"Condition my arse!"

"Erm, no.  MY arse!

Well, I have to say his rapid response was the thing that had me in hysterics, to the point of tears squirting out of my eyes! The thing is, Grumpytrousers in not known for his quick wit, so the arse comment came out out the blue and caught me unawares.  I couldn't stay cross with him after that.

I best tune in to BBC iplayer tonight then.  After I've booted him and his noise off to the pub.  Good plan, eh?