Pish!

I am a blog whore.

I have tried all bloody day to get onto this damn blogspot (my favourite blogging place) and have had to resort to putting this post on my Myspace. *sob* OH THE HORROR! The horror! I feel so dirty....

The blog is below:


I just felt like sharing a story from my life long long ago as a married lady. It popped into my head just before I fell asleep last night and I do believe the last thought before sleep rushed in was, "What a weird thing to think about now!"


A Tale from My Marriage

(Not that this story has anything to do with being married, but...)

Ex-Man and I were in the market for some furniture and being newly weds, we didn't really have that much cash to flash around. My ex-and-late-father-in-law suggested that we look for stuff at auctions. He explained that sometimes people have auctioneers come to their own homes and sell all their stuff that way.

What a novel idea!

So off we pootled to Bryanston, Johannesburg, to view the spoils of someone else's life. The house itself was opulent with lush gardens. The interior was tastefully decorated, and we really liked several of the items that were going up for auction.

Me, being me, and not one to keep my mouth shut, wanted to find out why all this stuff was up for auction. Rather than talk to the host of the auction himself, I sought out 'the help', which I discovered consisted of two gardeners and a maid.

They stood to one side of the house, looking sullen, being quiet and sad eyed. Almost invisible.
I asked them why the stuff was up for auction.

The gardener volunteered the chilling reply: "Madam shot herself."

Oh. I see. Suicide furniture.

I told Ex-Man and we made a hasty exit.

I have no idea why I thought of that last night. Perhaps because I was writing a short story in my head. Perhaps because I watched a documentary on men who are beaten up by their wives and thought you never know what goes on in another person's life. But there it is.