Life Goes On
Yes, it does.
The weekend was pretty good. Ben didn't have much going on in the way of work, so we pretty much had the entire weekend--after Friday night, anyway--to spend together. This, of course, culminated in what I would consider our first major fight Saturday evening. It started out innocently enough--we were cooking dinner (chicken enchiladas verde, mine rock) and he turned the radio on to listen to the MU game. Whatever. Dinner's ready and the radio's still on. I said, "Please tell me I don't have to listen to that while I'm eating dinner." He got defensive. I got pissed. He got more defensive. I threw my plate in the sink. In the end, everything was resolved (sort of), but it left me feeling very out of sorts for the rest of the evening.
Sunday, we went to his parents' house to swim. He talked his dad into hauling a tv out to the pool so he could watch the game while pretending to hang out with me.
I fucking hate football.
But I grinned and bore it, as I intend to do every fucking Sunday from here until January. Though I do intend to insist on certain Sundays that football take a backseat. Football, contrary to the opinion of certain Nike executives, is not life.
Then Monday came. My final 4 days at my sucky job. Most of the people there have already written me off as gone. All but bosshole, that is. He suddenly realizes it's fun to give me work. Too late, fucker. I no longer give a damn.
And my son has been sent home early from preschool the last 2 days in a row for bad behavior. Ugh. Nothing like the feeling you're raising a juvenile delinquent. Nothing like his asshole sperm donor telling you repeatedly it's all your fault and the kid has a mental disorder and needs medication. (No, DB, YOU need medication. Here, have a cyanide pill.) Nothing like feeling completely helpless and desperate to help your kid, yet wanting to strangle him at the same time. Today was the first day he wasn't tossed out on his ear. Ben picked him up early, as I had a meeting with a children's therapist. My take is that El Nino has been through a shit ton the past month (hell, the past 2 years) and doesn't have the emotional maturity to work through it all, so he's acting out the way toddlers do--in a primal manner. The therapist agreed with me, and I liked her, but she only does daytime appointments. And given I'm starting a new job next week, it doesn't seem kosher to up and leave at noon every Wednesday from the word go. So it's back to the drawing board. DB seems to think he's got a referral to the be-all-end-all of children's therapy centers, so I've given him the ball. We'll see how well he does with it. I'm guessing it will all fall back on my shoulders within the week.
I should have known today was going to suck when I was awakened at 2:00 am by what sounded like someone fighting outside our bedroom windows. I couldn't wake up enough to actually get out of bed and investigate, only enough to lay there and get pissed about being woke up. It happened again at 3:00. The alarm went off at 7:30. I hit snooze until 8:00, then got up and took a shower. Standing at the sink after my shower, I glance at the clock...7:10. Huh? Check my watch--7:10. Check my other watch--7:11.
Fuuuuuuuck.
When I set the alarm last night, the light was already off, and I accidentally set the clock ahead an hour. I fixed it and reset it to the right time. So I thought. I'd actually set the clock ahead TWO hours, not just one like I thought. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, "damn, it doesn't feel like it's almost midnight already." Duh. It wasn't, dumbass.
Grrr.
Today, I took the Missouri Notary exam on-line and passed. It only took me 2 tries. Not bad, considering I've never been a notary and didn't bother to look at the handbook or "training materials." I've just worked in a law office for so damned long, and let me assure you, there's not much to being a notary. So I've got that done, and the application filled out, which means I just have to send it in with the application fee, and I'm in. Hopefully New Boss will be impressed with my taking the initiative.
I can't believe I start a new job next week.
Fuck, I hope I don't have to leave on the first fucking day to pick up my unruly kid.
DB asked me tonight on the phone, "what's the greatest moment of your life?" I got pissed. "Why the fuck are you asking me that?" I fucking hate him, and I hate him even more when he tries to get all existential and/or philosophical on me. Because he's too stupid to accomplish either effectively. I wish he'd just die.
Okay...it's been a long day. I need a bourbon & diet, several cigarettes, and a shower. In that order.
Peace out, hippies.
The weekend was pretty good. Ben didn't have much going on in the way of work, so we pretty much had the entire weekend--after Friday night, anyway--to spend together. This, of course, culminated in what I would consider our first major fight Saturday evening. It started out innocently enough--we were cooking dinner (chicken enchiladas verde, mine rock) and he turned the radio on to listen to the MU game. Whatever. Dinner's ready and the radio's still on. I said, "Please tell me I don't have to listen to that while I'm eating dinner." He got defensive. I got pissed. He got more defensive. I threw my plate in the sink. In the end, everything was resolved (sort of), but it left me feeling very out of sorts for the rest of the evening.
Sunday, we went to his parents' house to swim. He talked his dad into hauling a tv out to the pool so he could watch the game while pretending to hang out with me.
I fucking hate football.
But I grinned and bore it, as I intend to do every fucking Sunday from here until January. Though I do intend to insist on certain Sundays that football take a backseat. Football, contrary to the opinion of certain Nike executives, is not life.
Then Monday came. My final 4 days at my sucky job. Most of the people there have already written me off as gone. All but bosshole, that is. He suddenly realizes it's fun to give me work. Too late, fucker. I no longer give a damn.
And my son has been sent home early from preschool the last 2 days in a row for bad behavior. Ugh. Nothing like the feeling you're raising a juvenile delinquent. Nothing like his asshole sperm donor telling you repeatedly it's all your fault and the kid has a mental disorder and needs medication. (No, DB, YOU need medication. Here, have a cyanide pill.) Nothing like feeling completely helpless and desperate to help your kid, yet wanting to strangle him at the same time. Today was the first day he wasn't tossed out on his ear. Ben picked him up early, as I had a meeting with a children's therapist. My take is that El Nino has been through a shit ton the past month (hell, the past 2 years) and doesn't have the emotional maturity to work through it all, so he's acting out the way toddlers do--in a primal manner. The therapist agreed with me, and I liked her, but she only does daytime appointments. And given I'm starting a new job next week, it doesn't seem kosher to up and leave at noon every Wednesday from the word go. So it's back to the drawing board. DB seems to think he's got a referral to the be-all-end-all of children's therapy centers, so I've given him the ball. We'll see how well he does with it. I'm guessing it will all fall back on my shoulders within the week.
I should have known today was going to suck when I was awakened at 2:00 am by what sounded like someone fighting outside our bedroom windows. I couldn't wake up enough to actually get out of bed and investigate, only enough to lay there and get pissed about being woke up. It happened again at 3:00. The alarm went off at 7:30. I hit snooze until 8:00, then got up and took a shower. Standing at the sink after my shower, I glance at the clock...7:10. Huh? Check my watch--7:10. Check my other watch--7:11.
Fuuuuuuuck.
When I set the alarm last night, the light was already off, and I accidentally set the clock ahead an hour. I fixed it and reset it to the right time. So I thought. I'd actually set the clock ahead TWO hours, not just one like I thought. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, "damn, it doesn't feel like it's almost midnight already." Duh. It wasn't, dumbass.
Grrr.
Today, I took the Missouri Notary exam on-line and passed. It only took me 2 tries. Not bad, considering I've never been a notary and didn't bother to look at the handbook or "training materials." I've just worked in a law office for so damned long, and let me assure you, there's not much to being a notary. So I've got that done, and the application filled out, which means I just have to send it in with the application fee, and I'm in. Hopefully New Boss will be impressed with my taking the initiative.
I can't believe I start a new job next week.
Fuck, I hope I don't have to leave on the first fucking day to pick up my unruly kid.
DB asked me tonight on the phone, "what's the greatest moment of your life?" I got pissed. "Why the fuck are you asking me that?" I fucking hate him, and I hate him even more when he tries to get all existential and/or philosophical on me. Because he's too stupid to accomplish either effectively. I wish he'd just die.
Okay...it's been a long day. I need a bourbon & diet, several cigarettes, and a shower. In that order.
Peace out, hippies.
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:20 PM
1 Comments:
you are correct, my friend--he IS a gold mine. he is amazing. and you're right, i am lucky (and so is he).
what's that saying..."don't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff..."
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