Pissed

Yep. That's what I am.

I'm pissed because back in February, we had a judge breathing down our necks to "hurry up" because she had an appointment even though we'd been scheduled for that trial date for fucking 3 months, and we couldn't go over the parenting agreement with a fine-toothed comb to check for glaring fuck-ups, and as a result, my asshole ex douchebag gets to spend 10 days with my son, uninterrupted, and it's reasonably certain I will not be allowed any contact with him at all during that time, even though this shitty agreement says I'm supposed to get a phone call at least every other day, and when Bob is with me, that fucker calls every goddamn day and I encourage Bob to talk to him.

I'm pissed because there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. There's also not a fucking thing I can do about it if DB decides to go ahead and subject Bob to "Miss Renee's" wrath again, because how the fuck can I really truly prevent that? The only way I would know would be if (1) DB told me, himself (yeah, right); (2) Bob told me (not likely because DB likes swearing him to secrecy) or (3) I hire a PI to follow them around. I'm pissed because I feel helpless and it sucks.

I'm pissed because my otherwise-wonderful husband found it necessary to complain about the fact we don't get Bob for any uninterrupted weeks during the summer, so taking a "real vacation" would be almost impossible. Then in almost the same breath, he reiterates that the nature of his job makes it necessary for him to work even when he's not there, making it virtually impossible for him to take more than a few days off at a time, ergo, making it virtually impossible for us to plan a "real vacation." So what the fuck does he care if I have Bob for a full uninterrupted week? He wouldn't be able to take that time off, anyway. And I'm pissed that everyone else in his fucking department seems able to take a full week off at a time, but he somehow cannot. What the fuck is up with that? And further pissed that as far as his job is concerned, he wouldn't say shit if he had a mouth full of it, so anything being resolved in that regard is pretty much a moot point.

I'm pissed because men define themselves by their careers and not their families and act accordingly.

I'm pissed because it's supposed to rain tomorrow and I was hoping the three of us could spend some time together as a fucking family at the water park.

I'm pissed because the forecast has now changed to rain every fucking day we're taking off, and the likelihood we'll have any more time off together before Xmas is small.

I'm pissed because our stupid fucking receptionist came back to work today and is wearing enough perfume to choke a French whore. It's stinking up the whole office and I've had a headache since I got here because of it, even with my door closed.

I'm pissed off that my job involves defending liars. Granted, they may not be consciously aware they're lying, but they are. Psychogenic pain--you don't need an MD to see it when it's so glaringly evident as it is in the case I'm currently summarizing.

I'm pissed because I'm here summarizing a liar's medical records when I should be spending time with my son.

I'm pissed because I desire the level of physical comfort that requires me to have a real job with real hours, and I can't just take off whenever the fuck I feel like it to be with Bob, unlike his loser ass sperm donor.

I'm pissed that I can't smoke in my office and it's 98 degrees and windy outside.

I'm pissed that my husband doesn't get pissed about the same things I do and makes it seem irrational for me to be pissed about them.

I think I'm done now.

And yes, I do feel a little better.