A brief rant before bed.
A couple of weekends ago I cleared out the garage of the marital home. To be honest, it was pretty clear already - the floor just needed sorting out after being home to the hobby car (which, like most cars of its ilk, oozes oil.)
Not really my responsibility, but I figured for the sake of amicability and all that I'd sort it out.
Today, the Ex phones up and wants to know where the key is. It appears that she's lost it and wants the spare. I have a spare. With the rest of my keys. In my bag. On the Isle Of Man.
Because its only an hour's flight, she wanted me to fly back tomorrow with my key. So The Boyfriend could store his stuff in the garage.
I may have done amicability a disservice. I fear I used a rude word. Perhaps two.
