I always find it interesting the mental process I go through when I leave the nest for my days off. I find that on the first evening I miss the kids really badly. I keep hearing their voices and have to work hard not to check in constantly. On the second day generally I relax internally and physically get lethargic and sleepy. By the third day I start to feel normal, like pre-motherhood Cuckoo Momma, and revel for a few hours in my rejuvenation. Then of course I get home only to find the suckwad has sucked and immediately I have a let down. Back to baseline mental exhaustion aka motherhood.
I’m home after my mini break out of town. Stanley did ok with the house and I could see that he had tried to leave it like it was left, per the agreement. I didn’t leave sticky countertops, but you know.
However, the children did not cooperate and did not leave their spaces like I left them. I’m wondering how to get those little terrors under contract. I found a half a pop-tart on my bedside table and I can’t find my remote. I think that the kids stay in my room a lot when I am gone. There are other televisions so I guess they just like it in here. It is nice.
When dude moved out I decided I could finally make it a sanctuary
since for the first time in 13 years he wasn’t in here complaining
about too many pillows on the bed.
What is the problem with that anyway? It isn’t like a pile of concrete cinderblocks on the bed! They are just pretty pillows.
Move them. They make me happy.
(Oh, I forgot. He didn’t care about making me happy.)
Did you see it? Did you see my mood swing?
See? Now I’m pissed off.
Asshole didn’t care about making a little concession that would make me happy.
How did that work for you, Stanley?
|Pillowless Crying Monkey|