Dear Diary, I have a confession. The 'episode' in the dead of night upset my sleep. I tossed. I turned. Sleep evaded me until dawn when I fell into a fitful sleep punctuated by nightmares.
My life in this household has always been pleasant; small skirmishes quickly resolved, and relative peace reigned for years. The arguing, the midnight niggling, and a feeling that war is about to break out at any moment are upsetting. How Niece is coping is beyond thinking about. Phil will ensure life remains calm; he has a calming influence, but over recent days even Phil has shown signs of impatience. As I lay in bed, my thoughts racing, a headache developed. I did stagger to the bathroom for an Aspirin, which helped the head, and no doubt relaxed me enough to enable the fitful sleep.
As I awoke an idea sprung to mind. Escape! Take a break.
No sooner had the thought surfaced than Karen hurried to the bathroom. This morning sickness is dragging her down.
Dear Diary, I took it upon myself to offer assistance. From the depths of my subconscious a remedy emerged. A cup of sweet tea and a dry biscuit is an unusual combination if you give it any thought, and not one that I knew to be a positive cure. Still, better to try than to ignore the poor girl. By the time she entered the kitchen the 'remedy' was ready. Sitting her down at the table I insisted she try it. Admittedly Milk Arrowroot biscuits, without the addition of butter and honey as I prefer them, is rather boring. However, give Karen her due, she sipped and nibbled. Slowly she recovered, though whether it was the tea and biscuit or just that the sickness had passed I am not sure.
Niece came into the room ... she had set the washing machine going for a load of washing. As we all sat around the table the discussion centred on the row we had inadvertently heard during the night. Karen was apologetic. Jake was not sure he was ready to be a father; Karen desired this baby. The fact they had no home, and now Karen's hopes of finding a job in the short term were lessening by the day, we agreed things were not looking good.
Hester, egged on by an earlier conversation with Phil, enquired how long Karen and Jake would stay in this house.
Karen look shocked. Clearly the idea of moving out in the meantime had not crossed her mind. It appeared to me that a young couple expecting their first child, whether it was 100% welcome this early in the pregnancy, would prefer their own home; a place to raise a child. The look on Karen's face showed otherwise. Oh dear, I fear my nightmare is coming to fruition.
There are arrangements to be made!
My life in this household has always been pleasant; small skirmishes quickly resolved, and relative peace reigned for years. The arguing, the midnight niggling, and a feeling that war is about to break out at any moment are upsetting. How Niece is coping is beyond thinking about. Phil will ensure life remains calm; he has a calming influence, but over recent days even Phil has shown signs of impatience. As I lay in bed, my thoughts racing, a headache developed. I did stagger to the bathroom for an Aspirin, which helped the head, and no doubt relaxed me enough to enable the fitful sleep.
As I awoke an idea sprung to mind. Escape! Take a break.
No sooner had the thought surfaced than Karen hurried to the bathroom. This morning sickness is dragging her down.
Dear Diary, I took it upon myself to offer assistance. From the depths of my subconscious a remedy emerged. A cup of sweet tea and a dry biscuit is an unusual combination if you give it any thought, and not one that I knew to be a positive cure. Still, better to try than to ignore the poor girl. By the time she entered the kitchen the 'remedy' was ready. Sitting her down at the table I insisted she try it. Admittedly Milk Arrowroot biscuits, without the addition of butter and honey as I prefer them, is rather boring. However, give Karen her due, she sipped and nibbled. Slowly she recovered, though whether it was the tea and biscuit or just that the sickness had passed I am not sure.
Niece came into the room ... she had set the washing machine going for a load of washing. As we all sat around the table the discussion centred on the row we had inadvertently heard during the night. Karen was apologetic. Jake was not sure he was ready to be a father; Karen desired this baby. The fact they had no home, and now Karen's hopes of finding a job in the short term were lessening by the day, we agreed things were not looking good.
Hester, egged on by an earlier conversation with Phil, enquired how long Karen and Jake would stay in this house.
Karen look shocked. Clearly the idea of moving out in the meantime had not crossed her mind. It appeared to me that a young couple expecting their first child, whether it was 100% welcome this early in the pregnancy, would prefer their own home; a place to raise a child. The look on Karen's face showed otherwise. Oh dear, I fear my nightmare is coming to fruition.
There are arrangements to be made!
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