...we had a Sunday roast delivered from an awesome local, independent cafe. It came at just gone 11.30am 🕦 and was, as always, incredibly yummy. Steve ended up getting 2 puds and me not getting any though, 'cos they put custard on both, which I'm allergic to. I had a banana for my pud and I'm nicely full without being bloated now and I've got just enough calories left for me tea this evening.
I've also emailed Steve's mum and brother asking them for the things I asked Steve to ask them for a couple of weeks ago but he still hadn't done so I obviously need to do it all myself from now on 'cos I obviously can't rely on him for anything 👎😕😞
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Steve's mum called to find out why I wanted the photo's and Steve told her exactly why I wanted them, so it's not a surprise for them any more. Not at all happy and I've lost the very last tiny glimmer of trust I had left in him now, so I'm not going to share problems or ideas or money with him any more - I'll keep a record of all the things he does as my carer and pay him at the end of each week until he gets carers allowance again.
It's not right that you don't trust your spouse any more and have to keep a record of everything they do to care for you, is it❓ 👎
I'm going to bed now. Nite nite orl, I'll see you tomorrow at some point.
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