If you recall, some weeks ago I asked Will to follow Don at a convenient time. Not in a nasty way, and of course I totes trust my husband, but I felt a tad disconcerted to find naked pics of Liz on his iCloud. The convenient time was last night, and this is what Will just messaged me (ignore the first bit – that’s from when he started ignoring me after my amazebobs feminist mission):

Knowing the dangers of the screenshot, not trusting Will, and fearing that anything I type could one day be used against me in a court of law, I had no choice but to connect by actual speakage on the phone.

Will told me that it was a swinging party – what now, now??? – and added the gruesome detail that he witnessed this unutterably unspeakable act occurring.

At that, I had heard enough. I thanked him for his assistance in the matter, re-confirming that absolutely no blackmail had taken place on my part. Threatening to tell his wife about his cheating ways does not count as blackmail because he is totes in the wrong anyway.

Despite my shocked and delirious state, I somehow found my way to the wine fridge and then to the roof terrace, where I lay in the pool, drinking Veuve Click from the bottle with a tremendously long straw (only alcoholics shouldn’t drink in the morning). Immersing my hot self in the cool waters, and staring up at a care-free sky, my mind tried its bestest to find a way out of this emotional quagmire.

It’s Don’s birthday today, and the party is tomorrow. Liz will be there. Her loser husband will be there. What, precisely, is the decorum in this situation, I asked myself, and I ask you now, dear readers. For I know not, and I grow weary a-wondering. My chi is very much in a bad place this day : (

Ass if Friday the 13th hadn’t already taken its toll, while I wondered lonely as a cloud on the roof terrace, an iCal alert pinged on my phone: “Angel arriving 1pm”. Argh!! With so much happening in my life, not to mention this fresh hell, I totes forgot that my Australian teenage stepsister is coming to live with us because her ridic mother can’t cope… Today!! It so crept up on me! I can’t bear it! Why didn’t I try harder to be less nice, and back out of the arrangement??? WHYYYYYY?!!

While I ran, arms flailing, to the rear-wing room I was supposed to make into a bedroom for Angel weeks ago, I questioned for the gazillionth time how on earth, in a six-bedroom, six-bathroom house one could possibly accommodate another human being. There’s no way I’m giving the help the helper’s room, ie the storage space off the laundry room. No way! If I did that, it would utterly scupper my online campaign for a second helper* because Don would say there isn’t enough space in the space. So she has to keep one of the real rooms, to share with potential Help Number Two.

I got to the room ear-marked for Angel, and miracle of miracles, it had been transformed into… A totes appropes bedroom for a teenager! Posters of One Direction and airbrushed celebs up on the walls and everything. The help must’ve done it. I put it in the house diary some time ago, but who knew she’d go all out like this?

I’ve must dash now, to make myself AHAP (as hot as possible) for stupid annoying irritating p-in-the-a Angel’s arrival. Gotta show the teenagers where hot is at!! iCal also told me that she’s joining us for dinner tonight, to celebrate Don’s stupid annoying irritating p-in-the-a birthday. Mega-hotness therefore required from moi.

Thanks to my extraordinary strategies of resilience, I will get through this day. I will say nothing to Don, and continue to be an awesome expat wife until I have all the facts.

I will now apply a Korean pig-placenta mask (not tested on animals, maybe), meditate for a full twenty minutes in the presence of my Buddha water feature, accompanied by a nice burn of Nag Champa, drink 500ml of green smoothie; and then, all will be well with the world. Will is obviously a liar, angry at my snubbage, and jealous of my marital bliss.

(As if people actually do that!! How ridic.)

* Not looking so good : (
I need 1,000 likes on my FB post, and I’m not even at 100. Babeses, HELP MEEEEEEEEEE!!!! First world problems are totes still problems. Click on the pic and share like your life depends on it!!