Dh is still home. He still has no job. He is still driving me insane. I have begun to plot ways to torture him. Every time I go somewhere he comes out and inspects the truck for water spots. Water spots! Silly me, I actually drive through puddles. I don't stop the truck and the very slowly driving through them so the water doesn't splash up onto the truck. He needs a job. He already has a hobby. His hobby is driving me crazy. I'm already crazy enough on my own. I'm taking two different kinds of medication. I will most likely need a third shortly.
Today he complained that I wasn't putting the whole potato chip in my mouth. I was biting it in half. Sue me. I have no need to put a whole Pringle in my mouth. This while he sat in the recliner with his laptop and dispensed child care advice. Why!? Why not actually be a parent and act out this advice instead of telling me what I'm doing wrong? What an asshole! I did actually call him an asshole to his face and I'll probably be doing it again soon. If he doesn't find a job soon I'll be going to live with my parents for a while. Or maybe I'll just kill him and live off the insurance money. That sounds like a great idea!
The underwires on both of my bras broke within two days of each other.
We were turned down for cash aid because I make too much money. I'm on State Disability people. But I make too much money.
I accidentally made a double car payment causing several checks to bounce, including a check I wrote to my mom for all the work we had done on the truck while Dh's dad was in the hospital. Luuuuuuuuuuvly.
We had our niece over last Friday to play and she stole Katie's crayons. She also tried to adopt two brand new glue sticks and a bathing suit. It could just be that I'm cranky because I haven't had more than 2o minutes to myself in the past three weeks. Or it could be that she's a spoiled brat.
I think I might be PMSing. I sound really bitter.
Amazingly Dh is cooking dinner. But he undid all that amazingness by ordering me to "figure out" what to make along with the chicken. He also called me a jackass for telling him not to stir things in the skillet with a butter knife.
Someone shoot me please. I'm begging. Put me out of his misery.