ventalicious
I fucking hate being female. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me and if I try to get some time to my self because I know that Rob hates to see me cry then he flips out and ...
All of a sudden, I just needed to cry. It just welled up and I held it in as best I could and then as soon as we got home, I dropped the food off in the kitchen, took out the trash, grabbed the laptop and cord and went upstairs. I realized it wasn't fair to close myself in the bedroom since it's his room too, so I decided I'd gather my knitting supplies and go to the cat's room/spare bedroom and close myself up there. While in there I decided I would listen to MY music since I can't really remember the last time I got to listen to my music. Hell, I have his CD in my CD player in my car (which I know I can take out at any time, but I have enjoyed listening to it, it's just sometimes you want the stuff that's yours you know?)
Well, before too long (less time than I kind of expected, though I forgot to factor in the "I haven't eaten" part of it) the cat's trying to get in the room because she can't stand a closed door, especially if she knows there's a person in there, and Rob's trying to get me to answer him. I try to ignore it as long as I can (which is hard since I didn't have the music on yet 'cause I was looking for a CD and I was raised that if you're called for, you sure as hell better answer.) Finally I give some answer, I don't remember what it was... then it became apparent that he's just going to fucking sit there, so I open the door and the cat runs in. He offers to help me look for the CD I'm looking for. I decline. He asks if I want my food brought up. I decline. He asks the band's name. I tell him. He asks if I'm on IM, I answer. He goes and starts trying to find the CD on bittorrent.
Then of course he asks whats going on or if i could tell him. Of course since I don't really know myself I tell him no. Then he asks for me to describe it. I can't. FINALLY he offers to leave me alone.
So... I'm in the cat's room, with the cat, and the fucking door wide open with the laptop and CDs all around me as well as my knitting.
I had a stupid day and it's just continued to be stupid.
For some reason, I got it in my head that the cashier's meeting was at 7 AM, which admittedly seemed odd, but hell, I thought, might as well go half an hour early and get the fucking thing over with and then just work after that. Noooo. It was at fucking 7 PM which made a whole lot more sense. So I still have to go in a lot earlier than I am scheduled tomorrow so I can go to the fucking cashier's meeting and then come home for a couple hours only to go back at 6 or somethin like that and work.
I actually had a fairly good day at work. Nothing overly stupid. Except for me. But shit happens.
Came home, was giggly for a while, finally went upstairs and fell asleep only to be awakened after 7 (when I had thought about going ahead and going to the meeting at the appropriate time tonight, but that didn't happen). I don't remember exactly... we talked for a while and finally decided to go eat and just look at washers and dryers and put gas in his car.
So, we did. Gas jumped 10 cents in like 3 days, so he was kind of upset. Nothing I could fucking do about it though. Except that I'm constantly reminded that I was a naive person when the presidential elections came around so I voted like my parents instead of knowing better.
Then we went and looked at washers & dryers at Lowes. Still have to wait a while. It's OK. I knew we would.
Then he says "we can do dollar menu" as we drive towards McDonald's.
So, I start trying to think really fast whether there's anything on the dollar menu not fried since I've already been pushing it with my gall bladder the last couple days. When we finally get there I see there's a side salad so i decide I'll do that and then supplement at home. He realizes that I can't really eat much on the dollar menu so offers to let me get something else for my health's sake. I say it's fine. I'll just get a side salad. He keps pestering whether I'm sure that's enough. I say that's fine. He orders a grilled ranch chicken meal for me "large sized," and 3 double cheeseburgers for him and a large sweet tea.
I just feel sick, so when we get home I drop it off and go through what's listed above. I just feel like curling up and crying, or just knitting and working on the fucking fish.
All of a sudden, I just needed to cry. It just welled up and I held it in as best I could and then as soon as we got home, I dropped the food off in the kitchen, took out the trash, grabbed the laptop and cord and went upstairs. I realized it wasn't fair to close myself in the bedroom since it's his room too, so I decided I'd gather my knitting supplies and go to the cat's room/spare bedroom and close myself up there. While in there I decided I would listen to MY music since I can't really remember the last time I got to listen to my music. Hell, I have his CD in my CD player in my car (which I know I can take out at any time, but I have enjoyed listening to it, it's just sometimes you want the stuff that's yours you know?)
Well, before too long (less time than I kind of expected, though I forgot to factor in the "I haven't eaten" part of it) the cat's trying to get in the room because she can't stand a closed door, especially if she knows there's a person in there, and Rob's trying to get me to answer him. I try to ignore it as long as I can (which is hard since I didn't have the music on yet 'cause I was looking for a CD and I was raised that if you're called for, you sure as hell better answer.) Finally I give some answer, I don't remember what it was... then it became apparent that he's just going to fucking sit there, so I open the door and the cat runs in. He offers to help me look for the CD I'm looking for. I decline. He asks if I want my food brought up. I decline. He asks the band's name. I tell him. He asks if I'm on IM, I answer. He goes and starts trying to find the CD on bittorrent.
Then of course he asks whats going on or if i could tell him. Of course since I don't really know myself I tell him no. Then he asks for me to describe it. I can't. FINALLY he offers to leave me alone.
So... I'm in the cat's room, with the cat, and the fucking door wide open with the laptop and CDs all around me as well as my knitting.
I had a stupid day and it's just continued to be stupid.
For some reason, I got it in my head that the cashier's meeting was at 7 AM, which admittedly seemed odd, but hell, I thought, might as well go half an hour early and get the fucking thing over with and then just work after that. Noooo. It was at fucking 7 PM which made a whole lot more sense. So I still have to go in a lot earlier than I am scheduled tomorrow so I can go to the fucking cashier's meeting and then come home for a couple hours only to go back at 6 or somethin like that and work.
I actually had a fairly good day at work. Nothing overly stupid. Except for me. But shit happens.
Came home, was giggly for a while, finally went upstairs and fell asleep only to be awakened after 7 (when I had thought about going ahead and going to the meeting at the appropriate time tonight, but that didn't happen). I don't remember exactly... we talked for a while and finally decided to go eat and just look at washers and dryers and put gas in his car.
So, we did. Gas jumped 10 cents in like 3 days, so he was kind of upset. Nothing I could fucking do about it though. Except that I'm constantly reminded that I was a naive person when the presidential elections came around so I voted like my parents instead of knowing better.
Then we went and looked at washers & dryers at Lowes. Still have to wait a while. It's OK. I knew we would.
Then he says "we can do dollar menu" as we drive towards McDonald's.
So, I start trying to think really fast whether there's anything on the dollar menu not fried since I've already been pushing it with my gall bladder the last couple days. When we finally get there I see there's a side salad so i decide I'll do that and then supplement at home. He realizes that I can't really eat much on the dollar menu so offers to let me get something else for my health's sake. I say it's fine. I'll just get a side salad. He keps pestering whether I'm sure that's enough. I say that's fine. He orders a grilled ranch chicken meal for me "large sized," and 3 double cheeseburgers for him and a large sweet tea.
I just feel sick, so when we get home I drop it off and go through what's listed above. I just feel like curling up and crying, or just knitting and working on the fucking fish.
posted by Gumonyershoe at 9:22 PM
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