‘You bought what?’ I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate.
‘Now, Jessie,’ my husband crossed the kitchen with his arms held up as soothingly as possible. ‘This is nothing to freak out about.’
‘A house?!’ I said, vaguely aware I might be yelling.
‘Just a little one,’ he protested.
My eyes briefly flicked to the knife block. He noticed, and quickly slid to stand in front of it.
‘We had plans, Mark,’ I seethed at him, white-knuckling the kitchen benchtop. ‘We have a meeting with those custom home designers on the Mornington Peninsula on Tuesday!’
‘We should still talk to them.’
‘Why?’ I frowned at him. ‘Didn’t you buy a finished house? Why would we talk to home designers?’
‘Well, they don’t just do home design.’
‘Mark, I might not be able to get a knife, but I’m damn close to that frying pan.’
He grinned nervously and took two steps back.
‘Okay, so this house — our house—’
My fingers wrapped around the handle of the frying pan. Mark wiped some sweat from his brow, still nervously grinning.
‘It needs a little… love?’
‘Love?’ I asked, coolly. ‘Define “love”.’
‘It’s just got a couple of dings here and there.’
‘Define “a couple”,’ I glared.
‘Okay, look it could go for some general house repairs and maintenance,’ he admitted. ‘But it was honestly a steal. I had to jump on this, that’s why I didn’t have time to call you!’
He ducked as the frying pan went flying over his head.
‘Some general repairs?!’ I screamed at him. ‘Dear God, tell me it has a roof.’
‘It has…’ he mulled his words carefully. ‘It has most of a roof.’
We both realised at the same time that he’d sidled away from the knife block, and both sprinted for it at the same time. He just beat me, but now had to deal with the fact that I was within striking distance as I pummelled his chest.