My darlings so badly wanted to spend some more time on that couch with me. It was cosy and familial and wonderful.
“I’m sorry, my love, but I have to work.” (One day, when they write their autobiographies, this will be the title. I’d wager money on it if I had any).
“It’s Sunday Night! Can’t your client wait until tomorrow?”
“The work is already overdue. I have to finish it tonight. It’s hours of work and it’s already late. I really should get to it now and not debate the issue with you.” (It’s just so warm and snuggly under the blanket, a daughter on either side and a fire gently snoring in the hearth. I’d rather be debating bed times than working, it’s true).
All at once, something new glinted in her eye. “When were the deadlines?” Her tone is innocent, curious. Even so, something about those expressive eyes causes me to pay attention.
“Well … three weeks ago,” I confess.
“Huh.” She pauses. “You know how you complain about your clients not paying you … ?”
There it is.
“I’m just saying,” she says, as she skips off to bed.
Yep. Just saying everything in no words at all.
(Full disclosure: the clients who haven’t paid HAVE received their work already. This poor unfortunate has been at the receiving end of the stress-paralysis induced by the malefactors. Just to be clear ;))