Had a party at home on Saturday night. The husband’s school pals with their wife/husband/friend. Everyone was having quite a blast with most of the men including my husband happily high and talking of things men beyond a certain age talk when they get drunk, nostalgic and very loving towards each other. That was on Saturday. The party ended sometime around four in the morning when we saw off the last of the guests, I looked at my watch, yawned and hit the bed.
Yesterday, our next-door neighbour (we have two. This one is the decent, non-partying type) rang the bell and politely asked for his ice tray.
‘Your ice tray? Do we have it?’ I wondered aloud, then in a flash of lightening remembered the party, looked into the freezer and found two ice trays that weren't mine. Figuring the hubby must've asked for it at some point in the party I thanked neighbour and apologised for bothering him late at night. ‘Oh never mind,’ he said, ‘it was about 1.30 am we were fast asleep, our maid gave him the trays.’
Bothering a neighbour at 1.30 is beyond indecency so I went off to have a word with the husband. 'What tray?' he asked innocently, 'I don't remember getting any.'
Our suspicion fell on R, who is a close friend and part of the furniture at home. We called him instantly. 'Of course not, I was too blown to move,' came the reply. The next half an hour was spent calling all the usual suspects who could have looked into the freezer, thought we had run out of ice, not bothered to ask me or look into the kitchen for THE FUCKING ICE BOX and decided to be enterprising. In the middle of the night.
Strangely, none of the usual suspects (which also includes my 'guilty until proved otherwise' husband) remember anything about the two ice trays collected from the neighbour. In fact, none of these models of sainthood even remember whether we had run out of ice!
Seriously contemplating moving out.