To Do - Lifestyle Review

I love lists. To Do ones. Shopping ones. His and her life goal ones. Accountant looked less keen as I presented him with ‘ourfiveyearplan.doc’ when he walked through the door.

Inspired by a visit to a friend’s pastel dollhouse, I decided it was time for one last push for perfection and jotted down some thoughts before typing up and colour coding our dreams for the future.

More outdoorsey (me)
Triatheletes (both)
Co-ordinated dresser (him)
Smaller boned (me)
Straighter teethed (me)
Gracious, patient, serene (me)
Eager to please (him)
Fluent in French (both)
Grow organic vegetables (expert horticulturist) (one of us)
Shinier hair (me)
Advanced DIY skills (him)
Less spotty (me)
Six pack (him)
Obedient (him/Chickie)

Accountant pulled a pen from his suit and defaced all my hard work. I attempted to read his revisions but he waved them above my head. I made a mental note to add ‘taller’ to the list.

He started reading, “Smaller bottom (her), seasoned camper (her), spatially aware (her), basic arithmetic (her) and buy a caravan (me)”, before thrusting the list in my face and strolling off towards the kitchen. My eyes narrowed menacingly as I noted his sketch of a giant bottom.

Later that night, as I sat reading ‘Growing Vegetables’ whilst listening to ‘Intense French’, Accountant lay wedged in the deepest recesses of the sofa, flicking between Miss Marple and The Professionals.

I paused the French. “Perhaps you should think about getting to work on that six pack, Sweetheart?”

“Yes” he agreed. My mouth fell open as he bounced straight up. I beamed at him lovingly as he walked towards me. He smiled back, gliding past, before coming to rest at the fridge.

He winked at me as he trundled back to his indentation in the sofa, Guinness in hand.

The next night I was reading up on problem complexions, when I looked out the window to see my neighbour’s husband bounding back home from his jog, sports bottle in one hand, buggy and baby in other. I reached for the list. “Multi-tasking – him.” Who knew men were capable of such cunning.

“Sweetheart” I yelled downstairs, eager to update him on his new task. No response. “SWEETHEART!!!” Nothing.

“I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!” I shouted, stomping down the stairs. Muffled oinks greeted me as I stepped into the living room, where my beloved lay sprawled face down, gently sucking the sofa cover in and out of his mouth. A small drool pool at the base of his bottom lip put time of unconsciousness at approximately 8pm.

I returned to the study, watching as super husband did his stretches in the front garden whilst weeding the lawn.

Turning on the computer, I started my column, appreciating as I wrote, how perfect Accountant actually was for someone like me.