posted by
machine_dove at 08:16am on 18/01/2005
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I was going to write up a bit entry about how concerned I was about Erik, but instead I think I'm going to kill him.
We're working the same schedule (more or less) now. So Erik finally has a chance to feel my pain. Except, when he gets home he's too tired to do anything, while I have to clean and make dinner. And then he's in too much of a hurry in the morning to do things like feed the dog (an activity that takes me far longer than it takes him, since I must lurch like the shambling undead to the opposite side of the house). He's in too much of a hurry, I have to take care of it. Oh, and he just wants to relax on his days off. His fifteen days off every month. I, on the other hand, must buy groceries and keep the house clean and do everything that needs doing in my eight days off a month.
Geh. It's the assumption that his time is so much more important than mine that galls me. I, of course, am in no hurry in the morning, nor am I tired after a ten hour day with an hour and a half drive tacked onto both ends. Nope, not at all. He can't stop at the grocery store on his way home to pick up milk, yet he can stop at McDonald's, even though I already started dinner.
Going. To kill. The boy.
And this is only week 2 of god knows how many. This will probably last until mid-April, or until he quits work, or until one of us die. It's pretty much a tossup which is going to happen first.
In the meantime, no cleaning is getting done, because he's too tired and I can't manuver a vacuum or broom about with any ease. I may manuver said broom soundly about his head and shoulders if he persists with the whiny bitchiness. I can out-bitch him any day of the week, thankyouverymuch.
*sulks*
We're working the same schedule (more or less) now. So Erik finally has a chance to feel my pain. Except, when he gets home he's too tired to do anything, while I have to clean and make dinner. And then he's in too much of a hurry in the morning to do things like feed the dog (an activity that takes me far longer than it takes him, since I must lurch like the shambling undead to the opposite side of the house). He's in too much of a hurry, I have to take care of it. Oh, and he just wants to relax on his days off. His fifteen days off every month. I, on the other hand, must buy groceries and keep the house clean and do everything that needs doing in my eight days off a month.
Geh. It's the assumption that his time is so much more important than mine that galls me. I, of course, am in no hurry in the morning, nor am I tired after a ten hour day with an hour and a half drive tacked onto both ends. Nope, not at all. He can't stop at the grocery store on his way home to pick up milk, yet he can stop at McDonald's, even though I already started dinner.
Going. To kill. The boy.
And this is only week 2 of god knows how many. This will probably last until mid-April, or until he quits work, or until one of us die. It's pretty much a tossup which is going to happen first.
In the meantime, no cleaning is getting done, because he's too tired and I can't manuver a vacuum or broom about with any ease. I may manuver said broom soundly about his head and shoulders if he persists with the whiny bitchiness. I can out-bitch him any day of the week, thankyouverymuch.
*sulks*
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