My day was going really well until lunchtime then it all went downhill rapidly.
The soup was fine, I made Steve a hot drink, did my laps then Steve started searching for something, so on one of the laps I asked what he was looking for and he told me it was the small, thin, silver HDMI remote that he couldn't find. I don't have a clue what HDMI is, but apparently without it, the telly would be permanently stuck on the Amazon Prime box.
I asked Steve to get the torch on his phone ready so that there was more light to look for the dratted thing on the floor.
I finished my laps with Steve getting more and more flustered, then got down on my knees to look for it under his chair.
Nothing there.
I could feel my blood pressure increasing rapidly, my legs were weak, my knees were killing me, I was shaking like a leaf but Steve was just sat in his chair watching something on his laptop.
I discovered four empty cola bottles and two toilet rolls, along with two still-boxed and prescribed cream for his legs, but still no bloody remote.
I struggled to my feet and asked Steve if he was absolutely sure the remote hadn't slid into the gap and he repeated that he'd already looked and was absolutely positive that it wasn't there.
I struggled to pull the seat out and had a look, but it wasn't there, so I slid my hand into the gap and my fingers found it within seconds.
"Oh!" says Steve, "I guess it took thin fingers to find it instead of my sausage fingers then!" Nothing even approaching gratitude, just being selfish as normal.
I wobbled over to the sofa and sat down, logged back into my laptop and there was a message from D which I stupidly opened and spotted that the attachment was a blog post for June, so immediately knew what the message would say, without her even asking for it.
I read her email, put her blog post up without reading it 'cos at 8 A4 pages at 12 point font, it was waaaay too long for me to be bothered with considering how angry I already was, so I just copied and pasted it then sent her a paragraph reply explaining that it was up but I hadn't read it.
I just have.
I wish I hadn't.
As predicted, she's told her visitors that there are at least 4 major changes coming and there are 3 new pages she wants to add as well blaming me for her fucking subdomain choice when it was her choice right from the start.
Apparently a domain is in the fucking pipeline too and I can pretty much guarantee that she will expect me to sort out that as well as paying for it and claiming total credit for that too.
Well she can fuck right off as far as I'm concerned.
From now on all I'll do is copy and paste straight from her Word documents and she'll have to sort out the payment for her own domain name and hosting and navigation and every fucking thing else.
I'm a patient, supportive, kind, caring friend and wife but even I have my limits and both Steve and D have pushed me too far now. I want everything in writing and they can pay their own fucking bills.
I've had it. I really have.