The night was destined to be a good one. I had rushed about far too much in the preceding days and had in mind, a better quality of evening.
With one child down (in France, on a school trip) the odds of a relaxed atmosphere seemed high - fewer competing demands on my time and my listening skills. Much less general bickering and friction. Only one set of homework to police. Things were looking good.
Dinner was simple - a roast chicken, some baked potatoes and a salad of egg, asparagus and green beans with a caper dressing which had caught my eye. I cooked, we ate. Full bellies and all was tranquil.
So tranquil, in fact, that the hubby and I decided after dinner to park ourselves on the sofa with a drink and watch a TV show. We know how to live it up round here! So we dispatched elder son to get a bath and settled down to watch. And all was going swimmingly, until about fifteen minutes in, when the TV suddenly switched off. Who'd sat on the remote? But no - the little red light was off, as was the DVD player. Something must have tripped the fuse, so hubby heads off to investigate.
And here, the tranquil evening takes a turn for the pear-shaped. Water is flowing down the walls of the kitchen, through the cooker hood extractor and the fuse box. And we connect the dots - the teenager, the bath. And that was when the yelling began and the tranquility went the same way as the peaceful evening and the TV show.
The helpful attitude of said teenager who insisted on trying to argue in his own defence, that the overflow outlet ought to be able to handle the fact that he had been distracted with pressing matters of his own and had left the water in the bath on, didn't go down terribly well with his Father.
Not the evening I had planned, but at least the kitchen floor got mopped. Trying to look for the silver linings here. And possibly an electrician.