Sorry I've been so remiss in updating...I just feel so blah. I'm sick of everything and am anxiously awaiting consistantly warm weather and a change of pace.
I'm having a baby shower for Renee on Sunday. I still haven't planned the exact menu...all appetizers and desserts. Of course, I have the desserts picked out...they're always easy (A chocolate lava cake, honey cheesecake and sticky buns) but I dont' know what to do for the "food food". I found some cute shower games on line to play...I'm looking forward to that.
Keith is still healing...the doctor said it could be three months until he goes back to work. Three months!! Holy shit.
Braden and JJ are doing well...waiting for school to get out.
The judge in our mortgage debacle has thrown out the case, as it stood. I don't know where this leaves us...and the 810 other mortgage holders. There's a meeting scheduled for May 8th, but the 75% stipulation ends on May 31. I really and truly don't know what we're going to do. I took a summer position at my school for the extra money, but it's not enough to make the extra payment. And, when summer ends, we're liable to be looking for a new house.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
"Ha Ha woman it's a crying shame,But you ain't got no one else to blame..."
You all know I'm not one to complain, but, I'm going to break from the norm. ~~0~~0~~
Keith is recuperating from his surgery. He can't drive, so he can't go anywhere, and it's driving him nuts. He sits around all day, waiting for me to get home from work so he can run errands with me. AArrgghh! (notice I didn't say he spends the day emptying the dishwasher, or doing laundry, or vacuuming) Errand running is my only time alone. I like to listen to a book in the car, or have the music turned up loudly. I like to not have to talk to anyone. Throw that out the window.
It's not helping that this medicine I'm taking to quit smoking has made me miserable. I just want everyone to leave me alone.
At 10:00, when I say I'm going to bed, Keith says, "Me too." And follows me to bed. Why does he have to go to bed at 10:00? He can sleep all day. I get ready for work in the morning making as little noise as possible, and as little light as possible, so he doesn't have to get up at 5:00. I resent it all.
It's so bad, that the other night I was watching a commercial for some sort of medicine to lower your cholesterol, and it showed how your arteries get blocked, one little speck at a time. I laid there, imagining all the little specks building up in his arteries, thinking "how long can this possible take?"
I'm awful. I know it. You don't have to tell me. I feel guilty enough. Not guilty enough to stop thinking about the specks, but guilty enough to feel badly about thinking of them.
Keith is recuperating from his surgery. He can't drive, so he can't go anywhere, and it's driving him nuts. He sits around all day, waiting for me to get home from work so he can run errands with me. AArrgghh! (notice I didn't say he spends the day emptying the dishwasher, or doing laundry, or vacuuming) Errand running is my only time alone. I like to listen to a book in the car, or have the music turned up loudly. I like to not have to talk to anyone. Throw that out the window.
It's not helping that this medicine I'm taking to quit smoking has made me miserable. I just want everyone to leave me alone.
At 10:00, when I say I'm going to bed, Keith says, "Me too." And follows me to bed. Why does he have to go to bed at 10:00? He can sleep all day. I get ready for work in the morning making as little noise as possible, and as little light as possible, so he doesn't have to get up at 5:00. I resent it all.
It's so bad, that the other night I was watching a commercial for some sort of medicine to lower your cholesterol, and it showed how your arteries get blocked, one little speck at a time. I laid there, imagining all the little specks building up in his arteries, thinking "how long can this possible take?"
I'm awful. I know it. You don't have to tell me. I feel guilty enough. Not guilty enough to stop thinking about the specks, but guilty enough to feel badly about thinking of them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)