It's bad enough going on one shopping trip in my book but two in one day is more than I can handle. When I go shopping I plan out what I need, where I can get it and then hit the shops like a whirling dervish. I'm rarely there for more than an hour. Yesterday was very different:

Round 1: I'd promised my mum I'd finish off some Christmas shopping with her after work. She only had an hour of my time and we have similar shopping mentalities so I couldn't see where it would go wrong.
This was my opportunity to pick up some aftershave for Jazz as part of his Christmas and he'd given me free reign. I could have really done without this but off I went, confident I knew what he would like. Not so! I spent half an hour in Boots spraying aftershave all over the place. After finally picking one that was neither intended for 'an outdoorsy, strong man's man' or that was 'too girly' (thanks, mum!) they'd ran out. I couldn't believe it. I finally had to admit defeat and leave empty handed smelling like a 14 year old boy who'd doused himself in his dad's toiletries.

Round 2: This was the part I was dreading. I was meeting Jazz to start/finish our Christmas shopping. He's very much a touchy feely shopper. For somebody who gets as strung out as me when they shop it is so frustrating as he refuses to make a decision until he's visited every relevant shop and examined every relevant item. After the first shop (Boots again - give me a break!) I was slipping into a thunderous mood and pining after a strong coffee.
It was already time for a break so he grabbed me a mulled wine and let me sit outside a shop with it while he had a look. The rest of the evening was trailing behind him, me making gentle suggestions and him saying he'd 'think about it'. Often bickering would ensue as I pointed out we didn't have time and he accused me of always rushing him when we go shopping. The one thing that made me laugh was when I looked across at a stereotyped male shopper. He was hanging back from his wife with his hands in his pockets and, catching me sigh and slowly plodd after Jazz again, he gave me an all too knowing smile.

Apparently I'm a terrible person. This is my own judgement - I don't dare to think what anyone else would say.

The past couple of days have been a bit of a blur. Jazz has been intolerable, Annie is getting sicker and everytime I opened my top drawer DJ's card was glaring up at me. I'd had enough with all of it so yesterday I sent DJ a message to say I'd be popping round. As I've said before, 'one issue at a time'. It was the first time I'd spoken to him since I'd received the card and I still had no idea what I was going to say.

My plan of attack was to discuss it with him. Properly. I didn't have a clue what was going on his head and he's such a reasonable guy so I would hopefully leave in less of a haze. On the way to his house I went through the discussion a million times in my head; I have no idea where I stumbled and lost all sense of reason.

When I got there he answered the door and I just morphed into a complete arse. I accused him of all sorts. It was really harsh. By the time I'd finished he had apparently sent the card so it would be spotted by Jazz, was putting too much pressure on me, was on the rebound and clearly thought I was easy. I'm assuming this was some kind of blow out from the few days when I was emotionally wrecked.

Yesterday was the first time I've ever heard him shout, not that I blame him. He came out with maybe one too many 'home truths' to be honest, most of which he's dead on the nail with. He wasn't cruel, I think just a little bit hurt. Once I'd reverted into a stunned, wide-eyed silence he said very calmly that he was going to make us a coffee and we were going to 'sit down and talk about it properly'. Which we did.

There were a lot of apologies throughout. I couldn't believe I'd been so unfair. Nonetheless once I'd made my peace with DJ, I then proceeded to cross someone else.

Somehow at somepoint yesterday afternoon I had the most orgasmic and fanatastic sex with DJ. The worst part being I don't feel as guilty as I probably should. I'm sure I'll get there though.

So in one day I tore my ex's nice gesture to pieces, slept with someone behind my husband's back and turned up late for a presentation I had to give at work.

I had a strange weekend. It was our weekend designated to spending time with Jazz's family and friends, plus a night at Annie and Mr T's. It all started relatively ok although I could sense Jazz was burning up about something.

If he was a woman I would swear it was a terrible case of PMT. Every few weeks he is intolerable for about 3 days. He goes quiet, moody and snaps at everything.

Possibly not the best time to challenge him about constantly checking my phone then. It quickly turned into a heated discussion with him making a few heavily inappropriate comments, but nothing like what was to come. Not one for an argument I quickly wormed my way out of it and went to sleep.

The next day everything was fine and he had returned to his quiet, moody self. Slightly easier to be around! Nonetheless both sides of the family have been cooing over us constantly since we got married. Maybe it's the whole 'not living in sin' thing. Who knows!

It wasn't until later Saturday night that things kicked off. We were spending the night with his brother who was having a party. It was all going great until Jazz was trying to explain, to a bunch of the guys, a certain pub we'd taken his brother to. Somehow it came out that I'd dated the barman in said pub and out of nowhere Jazz said, in front of 6 of his friends, 'Well what do you expect, she's probably shagged her way round half the city.'

I couldn't believe it. Everyone went completely silent. It was humiliating. When we were going to bed his brother gave me a massive hug and whispered a list of proffanities in relation to Jazz that I can't quite repeat.

The next day I subtly brought it up to complete avail. Jazz never apologises despite my best efforts. I'm absolutely livid but I don't want an argument so my plan is to quit agonising over it for now and sort out the whole DJ/Editors dilemma. One problem at a time!

Last night was possibly the first time I've just found sex completely mind numbingly boring. Poor Jazz. It wasn't his fault.

To be honest, with risk of sounding like a cliched, bored housewife in the 50s, I just wasn't in the mood. I wish I'd realised that before now. It's not a great feeling lying there worrying about issues entirely unrelated, and just making the right noises at the right times.

Feeling like such an arse right now. Hopefully that was my one and only night like that.

I have the day off today and I have never been more glad. Bleary eyed and coffee in hand I went and picked up the mail to discover the usual mix of bills, a letter from Annie covered in stickers and Christmas cards. As always I ignored the bills (yes, yes I know. Bad financial practice etc etc) and went for the card.

The first one instantly arose my suspiscion. It was addressed solely to me but using my maiden name. Apart from a questionable family member I couldn't for the life of me think of anyone would send a Christmas card and wasn't at or didn't know about the wedding. How wrong I was. This person knows only too well that I'm married.

When I opened the charming card with a pop up reindeer (my favourite of all the Christmas related animals)on the front, two Editors tickets fell out. Inside in overly familiar handwriting it read, 'I miss you. Let's take that weekend and leave everything behind. DJ x'.

Ever since I've been in a permanent state of shock. Not only is this not his style but it was completely unprecedented. Had this happened before the wedding when we had still been in the throws of our completely immoral affair then I don't think I'd have been quite as surprised. I know I've not been on my best behaviour with there being a couple of inappropriate and undocumented kisses lately but I was working on it. It was just totally unprecedented.

The most horrible thing is that I'm waiting to meet with Billie later today and really need to gage her opinion on this. So all morning in anticipation I've been stuck in a perpetual cycle of grabbing the card, reading it, hidiing it back in my drawer, making another coffee. My eyes are now bulging and I'm living off a caffeine related buzz. The truth is I would love to go (not until February so too many chances for me to make the wrong decision) but I know I shouldn't so I'll buy sometime and then go and see him about it. One day. When I find the guts and the willpower to do so.

Last night I had a bit of a run in with my mum in what I can only imagine and pray, is a typical mother/daughter relationship. It was the usual issue of being told something I offered to do/did wasn't good enough, I got my back up and so the story goes....

Following the tense telephone call I got really frustrated, knowing that within the next half hour my dad, sister and grandparents would have heard how 'unreasonable' I'm being. Jazz was great initially and did the whole husbandy thing; giving me a hug while I ranted on.

Not for the first time in our relationship, when I was mid-sentence he kissed me. Out of nowhere. No warning. Completely the wrong moment. And then afterwards when I'd taken a second to reason out what had happened I finished the sentence, although this time it was him who was confused.

Is this a form of male arrogancy that thinks a kiss will just make you forget all your troubles or is it a symptom of too many old movies that end in a tearful clinch? For the record, when I'm pissed off or upset don't just dive on me. In fact don't just dive on me ever. What happened to being in the moment?

There is no mercy! I am frequently humiliating myself in front of the one person continually. My neighbour, who I've mentioned before is 'that guy'. The one with the high-flying job, sports car and a physical appearance which Adonis himself would probably envy. Not my type but I'm still desperately trying to understand the need for men to wear fake tan.

Every time I run into him I am acting 'outside the box'. There was the time I was drunk in the summer and hanging out the window blowing bubbles in a cowboy hat. Then when I ran into him in the hallway on the night I decided to go out for ice-cream in pjs, a stupid hat and yellow shoes. As apparently all things come in threes, I hoped the last time I was to suffer mortal humiliation in front of him was when he came to our door and I ran to answer it, doing my best Led Zeppelin impression. I genuinely thought it was my dad.

Yesterday life was not to be so kind. I was just out the shower when our lovely neighbour arrives at the door. Thinking Jazz had forgotten his keys I answered it with a towel on my head, in the tiniest pj shorts known to man and my bra. Not knowing where to look he mumbled an apology, handed over the fateful parcel which had gone to the wrong address and left.

I'm seriously considering flat hunting after Christmas.

This is a very bizarre day for me. My little sister, Peggy is coming to stay over. She's 12 so I've watched her grow from a tiny tantrum thrower to a taller and more subtle tantrum thrower.

About every month we babysit her (I must stop doing that - she comes to spend the night) and it usually follows the same pattern. We take her to Pizza Hut or some other establishement lacking any nutritional options, during which she drinks copious amounts of Pepsi and gets increasingly hyper. When we get home we play Monopoly/Buckaroo/Pop N' Hop and other various classics, before settling her down for some supper with a movie where we never once tell her to close her eyes. We usually manage to pack her off to bed by 10pm so we can have a bottle of wine - all very selfish of us of course.

Tonight though I'm picking her up from a party at 10pm. It's more the pre-party antics that are freaking me out though.

Saturday: In aid of the same birthday, she went into town with friends shopping last week with no adult supervision.

Tuesday: My mum rings to ask me a 'huge favour'. Peggy after being told not to, secretly attempted to plucking her eyebrows. The results, to put it politely, made her look like a badger's arse. My job was to go round and shape her eyebrows and 'have a word' about doing it on her own. I've now found myself to be the chief eyebrow plucker of my 12 year old little sister.

Wednesday: Peggy phoned me unexpectedly and gave me a detailed run down of her outfit planned for Friday night. Following this was a request to borrow a pair of shoes I think might go (and so it begins!). After my startled silence and jaw hitting the floor I got to thinking about shoes that weren't too sexy or too high. So tonight she will be wearing my shoes.

Friday: Well let's just wait and see. I'm sure the media would have it that a 12 years old's party this year is all heroin injecting and the production of under-aged mothers, but I know it's very different. Still scares the hell out of me that my baby sister's growing up though!

A bunch of us were going to see Ryan Adams on Saturday. Well a bunch of us minus Jazz who complains and yawns at the very mention of his name. When a spare ticket came up though he finally decided to come with us and my suspicions were aroused. To prevent any moans afterwards I had my subtle 'don't just come for me, come because you actually want to' conversation with him but he was adamant he genuinely wanted to come.

The gig went great. We all had a fantastic time and Jazz was, to my surprise, genuinely enthused about the whole thing. However, since we got home on the Sunday it's been a completely different story. Now constantly it's, 'Can't you watch this with me? I went to Ryan Adams with you' or 'After going to see Ryan Adams last Saturday, you'll come watch the football with me this week, right?' or 'Why don't you cancel seeing Billie next week and we'll do something. After all we went to see Ryan Adams with your friends on Saturday'. AH!!! After about the 30th round of emotional blackmail I broached the fact he'd said he'd enjoyed it which he fiercely denied before falling into a barrage of insults about the man in question.

This brings us forward to last night when his friend, Aussie (my favourite of all his friends) came round. With Aussie being a massive fan we got chatting about the gig for Jazz to randomly pipe up, 'it was unbelievable'. He then entered into a huge conversation with Aussie about the merits of Mr Adams himself.

Now this annoys me. Not just about Jazz but everyone who does it regularly - bullshitters I think they're called. We all know someone who does it and I'm sure we all do it at somepoint but in general I just don't see the point of trying to constantly say the right thing. Jazz is renowned for it within his social circle, although my friends haven't quite cottoned onto it yet. But seriously what is the point?!! And to make it worse, when I pull him up about it he just laughs.

Jazz can't have sex for the next few days. It's not a long time, I know but after pretty much having sex on tap for 3 years, there's something about not being able to which is driving me crazy. What a childlike mentality in what should be a very adult world!

Last night was where it hit. I was bored watching TV and usually I'd find some way to amuse myself but it wasn't to be. To make matters worse Jazz seems to think it's hilarious to wind me up to the point that, when I was trying to get to sleep last night, it took all my self control for my imagination not to be polluted by every vaguely sexy thought in the world. I feel so hard done by it's pathetic!