I’ve created a monster. Everywhere I go it follows me: wife-swap this, wife-swap that. People edge up to me in the park to share intelligence. A mum says she’s heard you put a certain pot plant on your verandah to signal your availability. She’s been googling madly, trying to confirm which one. Purely for research purposes. A dad reckons house keys are exchanged during Friday drinks at the electrical sub-station on 3rd. There was a running gag at my Stay-At-Home Mums & Retrenched Dads Christmas Party: the blokes pretended they were all doing it, but hadn’t invited Andrew. Just to give him a complex. I still reckon it’s an urban myth. I simply can’t imagine shagging someone’s husband on Friday then chatting at kindy pick-up on Monday. That didn’t stop me gasbagging about it during afternoon tea on Thursday. We mulled over who, what, where, when and why. We finally settled on the sub-station rumour. Then someone noted: “They do great Christmas lights displays on 3rd.” Oooh, yes, everyone agreed, most impressive. And Halloween. Excellent Halloween destination. Maybe they’re just friendly, community-minded … nah … where’s the gossip in that?
housegoeshome 
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