A long-ass time ago, Husband got himself into a bit of trouble. It was all really stupid (especially the part where he got caught) and has been a thorn in his side for a multitude of reasons since. In any case, when the staffing agency that employs him ran his background check, the information came back (as we expected) inaccurately (we didn’t see that comin’). It made his previous troubles exponentially worse and therefore, they let him go. Husband met with them yesterday, taking along all the original court documents. He called our lawyer, he called the lawyer from years ago, he called the clerk’s office in the county where it happened. Maybe he’ll get his job back. But his job loss has created a domino-effect of other great reasons to be pissy.
No more medical insurance = no more Paxil. I’m on my last month’s prescription, so I’m taking matters into my own hands (remember how well that went last time?) and weaning on my own. I started Saturday and already I’m all sorts of bitchy. And just like last time, I’m PMSing.
I was supposed to ride to Indianapolis on Saturday to meet up with Monkeytoes and go to that Daughtry concert with her. Yeah, no cash flow for even gas. I had to cancel with her at the last minute. I would have felt soooo much worse if she didn’t have a friend to take after all. While I’m not a huge Daughtry fan, it has been years since I’ve been to a concert and we have planning this since April. I’m pretty fuckin’ disappointed.
T is gone. I put her on the plane on Sunday afternoon and the little shit didn’t even call to let me know she made it okay. Before heading to the airport, we dropped Joy off at Big Rob’s because he was headed out to Oma’s. I had to ask my mom to buy Joy’s school supplies and some new uniforms since Joy’s Nana didn’t bother this year (the past I-don’t-know-how-many summers, she has at least taken care of uniforms and the new backpack), although she did get Joy a backpack. I’m sure you can imagine how much fun my mom had trying to locate uniforms the Sunday before school started. Even I called three different stores (on top of the countless stores mom called) and everyone was out of Joy’s size. For a pleasant Oma this did not make.
Since the girls were both gone and Husband was home, I spent the rest of a seemingly endless Sunday cleaning the entire house, including Joy’s room. It didn’t take long, but it was tedious as hell and I found all sorts of food-related garbage that I know is from T in that room. When Joy came back home yesterday, I had to get onto her at least 4 different times to keep it clean in there. I just don’t understand how one little girl can be so similar to a natural disaster.
We went to the WIC office yesterday to renew. I was miffed that the nutritionist asked me what I am doing with the milk I get from the WIC checks since we don’t give Buddha cow’s milk. I told her I was still nursing, but she still insisted that he needs a good source of calcium. Erm… hello?!
Mom met with us there to drop Joy to me. We came back home for a bit, I did some laundry, some meal-planning, then we headed to the park for a bit. We went to Wal*Mart to get some diapers and a few other things (that we can’t really afford), came back home to start dinner. Husband and I got into another tiff. He does this really annoying thing where he comes in and either tells me how I “should be” doing something or just takes over. I totally flew off the handle on him. In hindsight, it was pretty stupid. I just remember how I was so consumed with anger. He knows how much I hate it when he interferes. He did try to apologize or at least calm me down. I would have none of it. I finished my chores and went to bed, not even having any dinner. It was 7pm. I woke up briefly at just before 9pm long enough to call Joy in from outside, make her take her pill and usher her into the shower. I scooped up the boy and the two of us went to bed. I slept until 6:30am this morning.
I have got to do something - anything - about the level of anger I reach when he makes me mad. I have never experienced feelings like this before. I dream up all sorts of violent things to do to him when he makes me mad. I want to break shit. Since I cannot (as of yet) find a better solution, I just remove myself from where ever he is. It isn’t practical, for one. For another thing, it just cannot be healthy. He’s my husband and, normally, my best friend. I shouldn’t feel like he is my enemy. I know he is not, but when I reach that level, it feels like he is.
The only good solution I have come up with: one of us needs to get a fuckin’ job.
Joy turned 10 on Wednesday, but her party was on Saturday at the park. Some of the neighborhood kids came, my brother and his youngest (who is precisely 3 weeks younger than Joy), my mom, and Sonnie and her gang.
