Mr. Munch painted my portrait
2004-08-02,

I have exactly 15 minutes to update my diary. Work is too crazy to afford me the chance, and every minute that Spouse was NOT working me like a stevedore this weekend, he was glued to my side in a way that puts the diary right out of the picture.

Honest to god, I wish that man would get called out of town. He's driving me frickin' crazy, so by the time we leave for vacation, I'm going to be utterly sick at the sight of him. That's right--just at the time when I have to spend 24 BLOODY HOURS A DAY with him.

Shoot me. Shoot me now. This is the basket case I am when I do not get enough "me" time. I had such a screaming hissy fit on Saturday that the dog actually intervened and comforted me. She's such a love when she wants me to shut up.

The problem is this, essentially: I need stress-free, no chores to do me time. A reasonable amount every few weeks. But between all the summer activities, work being just insane, his being uterly fucking spoiled, and this weird clingy, kidnappy business he's been pulling lately*, I am not getting my minimum requirement. So I'm going batshit loony.

*Instead of asking me if I want to do something or go somewhere, which he knows I will say no to, he tells me we are going for a quick breakfast, or trip to the store. Once I'm in the car, he kidnaps me and goes where the fuck he wants to. Control freak prick.