Hey! Look!

More than one post in a week. I'm such a trendsetter. While not having to work has taken off some of the pressure I'd still like to torture my husband and then rub salt in the wounds. He drives me nuts. My friend offered to let us move in with her. That was a fatal error. HUGE mistake. H took that as a cue to begin packing. Uh . . . . . no. I love my friend. That's why I won't move in with her. She has two kids of her own. That's still a lot of kids in a much smaller house. Probably still not a good idea. H was really pushing it, in spite of my objections. Red flag huh? I know his intentions are good, he thinks that getting us out of this house will fix everything. But it won't. We need our own house and extensive therapy, and lots of drugs. Yesterday I saw my counselor for the second time. We discussed this (not) possible move of ours and (yes! sweet! dude!) she agreed with me, that's it's not a good idea and we would just be moving our problems to a new place and potentially ruining a friendship in the process. H wasn't happy about it, I could see tell by the look on his face, but tough titty. My purveyor of mental health also told me that I'm not to be the go-between for my parents/brother, and my husband. If they have something to say to the other, well then they can just put on their grown up chonies and actually have a conversation with that person instead of putting me in the middle of it. Hallelujah! Amen! Could you please pass the collection plate? No change making. That's just tacky.