Dp finally got home at 6.30 this morning after a mega drinking session with friends he's not seen for several months.
I don't much care about the time he gets home (well, the 3am self-pitying, I've missed all the trains boohoo ilurveyouuuuu phone calls I could do without) but what pisses me off is the way it then messes up the next day. It's our last weekend together (I go back to work on Monday, he lives 400 miles away atm and will be leaving at the end of the week), it's not as if we're doing anything terribly exciting but it does irritate me. I'd like to spend some time lounging around with him! Plus, I would never get away with sleeping in until 2pm no matter how heavy the night before!
So WIBU to go and fling the curtains open and jump on the bed? 