I just got home without Popeye and strangely instead of crying or shouting or collapsing into the floor I stood in the middle of the room and let rip the biggest fart ever, right there in the living room.
After the shock and knee jerk reaction blushing, all I thought was “fuck yeah Olive! Now I can do whatever the fuck I want to!”
It was liberating, it was exhilarating, it was a little bit scary.
And as I stood there post fart, hands on hips, chin up in what will now and forever be known as the F U Deployment Fart Pose, I got to thinking.
What else can I now do that I can’t when Popeye is home?!?!
This is what I have come up with so far whilst the girls are being raised on Peppa Pig and I curl up on the sofa trying not to cry:
- Spend ages looking for spots in the mirror.
- Watch such high brow TV as Buffy, I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and GBBO.
- Let the dog sleep on the bed (shhhh).
- Put all of Popeyes clothes in a big pile in the bottom of the wardrobe so I can use his drawers for my stuff.
- Buy and eat food he doesn’t like all the time. YES!
- Fart as I go.
- Actually talk to and meet up with friends instead of being a super flakey crap friend when he’s home.
- Go on social media all evening if I want to. Without feeling guilty im not spending magical romantic time with him.
- Secretly throw out any of his honking Pussers socks that I come across.
- Order whatever bloody dominoes I want (as a side note- there’s nothing wrong with Texas BBQ chicken).
- And potentially the most exciting thing- NO MORE STAR TREK OR GODDAMN PLAYSTATION!
What have I missed?