George Vernon Hudson Appreciation Day

Hanna and I have some difference of
opinion on the Powerpuff Girls, but I
can't deny that they pulled an Alan
Davies attributing daylight savings to
Ben Franklin.

I am absurdly excited at the prospect of swimming this Sunday being an hour later due to being in GMT. All in Chez Morningstar are pretty knackered at the moment, with even my daughter complaining that 'I sleepy' and demanding that people (well, mostly me) 'leave me alone again'. It is in this delicate state that we have to face the explanation of the difference between slapstick comedy and physical abuse.

It is also in this condition that I seem to have been declared arbiter of allowable partners for our traditionalish family board games New Year. This is choppy waters for me. I don't want to be down on other partners, but I also don't want to end up the fifth wheel and I really, really don't want to end up curled up in a ball in my bedroom like I did last birthday. Granted, that's a worst case scenario, but best not to be careless.

Partly the problem is that I want to be fair, but inevitably I don't mind Andrew's girlfriend being there because she doesn't cut into my time with Hanna; if anything her being there gives me more time with Hanna. But if I say yes to her, how is it fair to say no to Hanna's boyfriend? It isn't, is the answer, but I'm not sure it isn't something I might have to do from the standpoint of my own mental and emotional well being, so should I then say no to Sam as well? In some ways it would be easier if I had a problem with Hanna having another boyfriend in general (well, apart from the all-but insoluble question of terminology once the clear-cut husband/boyfriend dyad is expanded) rather than just struggling with a few specific instances. I could just be all 'nuh-uh' and not have to worry about offending people.

Of course, I'd also be a dick, so there's that.

Also, if they do come to the gather, what is the etiquette regarding chores. I mean, if we're at my place then they're guests, so I can't ask them to do the washing up, but on the other hand I might feel mean dragging Hanna or Andrew away to get the dishes. On the gripping hand, I can't do it all myself; that way madness lies, and I'm not even being particularly hyperbolic. It was feeling all excluded and struggling with a pile of washing up at the far end of the flat that left me in a major meltdown at the start of the year.