feeling retch-ed
September 06, 2006
Not feeling exactly tip-top this evening.
Between putting some truly rancid garbage on the curb, and cleaning up what can only be described as a "shitfest" from the dog's raging diarrhea, as soon as I got home from work, I must cop to some fairly severe queasiness. I'm usually feeling pretty green on the second day of my period anyway, so this was no picnic.
The two are connected, I think. The idiot I'm married to left the dog unattended in the back yard yesterday, after having left an open bag of garbage out there, instead of tying it up and putting it in the can like any normal, civilized adult would do.
As usual, no skin off his nose. HE doesn't have to come home after a brutal day at work and scrub dog shit out of the living room wall-to-wall.
I�m getting really fed up again. He is impossible lately, and I�m stretched to the breaking point with living this way. He needs a good shove to get him going again. I wish I could figure out how to do it.
Honestly. I look around this house, and see how beat up and falling down it all is, and I realize that it's another week where the bills are more than the paycheck, and there is STILL a crack in my windshield, and then I realize that even though I work like a dog and make decent money I haven't had a new brassiere in two fucking years--and I have to ask myself: When, exactly, did we become poor white trash? I feel like I�m just waiting for the Jerry Springer show to call.
And since I�m feeling so lousy anyway, I guess it was a good day to find out that I have to old-lady sit his fucking mother this weekend. Which means I�ll have two babies on my hands. One who is in her second childhood, and one who never left his first. On top of dealing with that loony old bitch, I�ll get an earful of whiny crybabyism from him, because it�s just oh, so hard on him to put up with her senility.Why do we have to grannysit, you ask? Why, so JR can fly to Vegas and stay at Wynn, you see.
Fuck, I wish he�d just put her in a home. Even Tony Soprano saw the wisdom in that move--why can�t JR?
Oh--and she has a fucking broken arm, too. Not surprising--a lifetime of anorexia has left her with bones like an Aero Bar. She�s as fragile as old glass. I have no idea how--don�t care, except that she�s just going to be that much more helpless.
JR was hinting pretty strongly, I understand, to have her actually stay with us. But no. Just no. I draw the line, indelibly at that. And Spouse bloody well knows it. Funny--I think JR knows it, too. I notice he didn�t ask ME.
Reading: �The Quintessence of Queen�, edited by Anthony Boucher. An old EQMM anthology from the early sixties.
Beading: Working out a boot anklet idea, using wrapped loop technique, and some adorable flower-shaped beads I got in Evanston.
Listening: A cassette tape of the Animaniacs. A little silliness from the big tote full of cassettes.
At Random: click here
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