The boy texted me last night to tell me that he's not coming home today after all. Apparently his flights were messed up, and he's still in Singapore. This is bad; I'm just no longer accustomed to being the sole responsible adult in the household.
And yet, I loved living on my own pre-boy.
When the technician came around to test our alarm monitoring system and accidentally blew a fuse (not his fault, we have a faulty light switch in one of the rooms), I had to ask him to replace the fuse wire for me. I can't do it myself you see, because even with a ladder I'm too short to reach. It's always been the boy's job.
He's also the one who hold Baby when she's about to get a vaccination jab.
I hated taking the rubbish out on Wednesday, because that's a nasty job which I normally persuade the boy to do.
And woe betide me if anything should happen to my PC, because he is my computer whisperer. Ditto for the DVD player.
He did however, buy me a massage seat so that I wouldn't miss his magic fingers (I don't mean that).
And The Little Madam hasn't seen her daddy for days now. Will she look at him questioningly when she sees him?