If there is one thing that I have realised in this life, it is that timing is everything. I have always believed this and it took an email from a friend this morning to remind me of this fact. She said she was biding her time regarding a difficult situation.
This is not something I was born with – the ability to wait until the time is right. I am an impatience person by nature, firmly believing, ‘that we should never put off until tomorrow something that can be done today.’ If I want something, I want it now, not tomorrow or next week but right NOW!
But maybe the above is missing the point a bit and what I’ve written is more about wanting and getting something rather than asking for something.
I shall give you an example. Yesterday Richard went to the dentist. He had a tooth out. How brave. He came home, just as I was removing a pooh from Chea’s litter tray. This should have started a little warning bell ringing with him – but obviously not. I then asked him how he’d got on, did it hurt, blah, blah. He spoke through clenched teeth. Apparently he was having to bite down on a piece of cotton wool to stop the bleeding. Quite surprised it wasn’t a stick!
I managed to understand a few words before he waved a piece of paper before my eyes and pointed to a list. Apparently it was a list of future treatments. Next week he has to go and have another tooth out (another £80) and then the REAL work can begin. One of his back teeth needs drilling and capping, £450 for the drilling, £450 for the capping. So almost £1,000 for the treatment to ONE tooth.
This is the point at which Richard’s timing was all wrong!! And how!! ‘What the **** I screeched. A thousand ******* pounds for ONE tooth?’
He tried smiling at this point.
‘Are they nuts?’ I bellowed. ‘A thousand pounds?’
The smile faded.
‘A thousand pounds!’ I continued, removing Chea from the fridge as I put the milk away. ‘No way. You can have the bloody thing out!’
I won’t have anything to chew with?’ he mumbled through the cotton wool, which frankly I think was only there to instil sympathy. Well it wasn’t working.
He then turned the piece of paper over and there, lo and behold, was further information on the work that needed to be carried out on another tooth -£850.
I made a fast exit to give the chucks their corn and to shut them up for the night before I started scouring the house for strong twine and a door-handle to tie it to before attaching the other end to Richard’s tooth!
So to get back to timing. IF Richard had mentioned the fact that he was going to need in excess of £2,000 to have his poor, sweet, little mouth sorted, IMMEDIATELY after we had seen The Impossible, the film about that dreadful tsunami that hit in 2004, things would have been so different. If, on the way out after seeing the film he had said, ‘I need to spend £2,000 on my scabby mouth,’ I would have said, ‘Of course you do sweetheart, anything, I’m just so lucky to have you alive and well, bend your precious little head down to my level and I’ll kiss your furrowed brow, darling.’
I have found, in my many years on this planet, that you can ask for, and get, most anything – if you get the timing right.
We recently had a new broadband installed and as I sat happily tapping away I glanced up and Richard who was sitting in the lounge with his little notepad balancing on his knee. I was so chuffed that the internet was at last working nicely that I called through to Richard and announced, ‘That silly note pad is useless, we’ll go out and get you a laptop. Call it an early birthday present.’
He looked up and muttered something. I didn’t catch it because I can’t lip read and I had my earphones in at the time listening to some country song.
Richard has since decided that he doesn’t really need a laptop and that he would rather I had a new one and he would be happy with my old one – which isn’t old. He would much prefer some stupid ‘part’ for his ancient Land Rover that he is doing up. The guy is so romantic. He had a carburettor for Christmas!
Another example and this is for the ladies. Richard crawls down in the morning to the aroma of bacon and sausages cooking. I am tidy, for once. You know. An extra swipe with the mascara brush, polished boots and a happy shiny face and I announce. ‘I’ve made you a cooked breakfast.’
Richard by this time is discreetly looking out of the window at the car should I have pranged it. After assuring himself that all is well he grins and takes his place at the table. I place the beautifully cooked breakfast before my Lord before taking myself off to the sink to wash the dishes.
Richard’s manly tones reach me. ‘This is lovely. Thank you.’
I smile and say, ‘That’s OK. Eat it all up, I’m just going to make you a milky coffee and then … I thought we could go to Ikea!’
I notice he swallows hard. His face is about to collapse but the bacon, sausage, fried bread, eggs and mushrooms win out. He nods and mumbles, ‘OK.’
I can also ‘time’ my sarcasm. Richard gave Chea a morsel of cream from his piece of cake last night. It fell on the leather sofa (only have leather if you have pets and men … so easy to clean!) I told him he’d dropped the cream and to show Chea where it was. By the time his bat-eyed vision had spotted the cream Chea had sniffed it out and was licking it. I shook my head and said, ‘that cat is more intelligent than you …and she’s stupid!’
The comment hung in the air for a few seconds, then we looked at each other and burst out laughing. Ah, the joy at being able to laugh at oneself!!!
Richard has NOT grasped this timing concept. Probably just as well, or who knows what he might be demanding in my moments of joyous, gay abandonment?
Take care my lovelies x