“Right, so I’ve narrowed it down to these two. ‘Sunday Best’ or ‘Whisper of Snowfall’. I’m thinking we should probably go with ‘Sunday Best’, because I really think it’s just that bit crisper, you know? And plus it’ll go better with those curtains my mum picked out, you remember, those cute ones with the ducklings? But anyway, I thought I’d ask you before I make any concrete decisions, although I really do think we’d be better off with ‘Sunday Best’. What do you think?”
“I dunno. They both look sort of the same, to me.”
“Robert. We talked about this. I thought you said you would try harder to be involved?”
“I am, Diane! But I honestly can’t tell the difference, they both look like identical shades of white.”
“It is NOT white, Robert! It’s egg shell, for god’s sake. And this is the room our unborn child will be sleeping in! Or do you not care about that?”
“What! Of course I care, I only said -”
“Look, you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel about it. I knew it was a mistake asking your opinion, I should’ve just carried on regardless. You’re always like this.”
“Diane, what the fuck? We’re talking about paint, the colour of the paint on the walls. I think these hormones are going to your head ...”
“Oh, that’s right, blame the hormones! It’s not the fact that you’ve been no help whatsoever throughout this entire pregnancy! I haven’t put my feet up ONCE, you’ve barely lifted a finger around the house, and now you tell me you can’t be bothered to choose a shade for the walls of your child’s bedroom. That’s just fucking perfect, that is. My mother was right about you.”
“Diane, seriously, what the fuck have I done?”
“Just don’t talk to me right now, Robert. Your face is really pissing me off ... And I’m definitely going with ‘Sunday Best’, so that’s that. Now fuck off.”
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