With so much more than I deserve.
Good friends, good kids, good animals, spectacular husband … I have been blessed.
I do a lot of bitching; I can’t help it, it’s what I do and what I’m good at. If you read between the lines, you can see that it’s all in fun.
At the end of the day, I thank God for ALL of it. I would gladly go through EVERY shitty thing that happened to me when I was a kid if I could be guaranteed to end up exactly where I am today.
OMG … I finally did the damn taxes today. I don’t know why I put it off for so long every year. We do TurboTax and it only takes me about an hour. One income, no kids, no itemizing – we lead a simple fucking life.
Well, I DO KNOW why I waited until today instead of doing them on Monday; I was pissed (still am) at BigD.
“Really?” you say. “No shit,” you say.
Yeah, no shit, I say.
He occasionally FORGETS who does his laundry, makes his supper five nights a week, pays the bills, deals with insurance and utilities people when they need to be dealt with and takes care of all the little stuff he TAKES FOR GRANTED. Ya know like blow-jobs and incidentals like that.
Yeah, that would be me.
That’s why when I say to him, “My car won’t start.” I expect him to do more than put the fucking battery charger on it for ten minutes, tell me he doesn’t know what’s wrong with it and tell me to call our mechanic.
Which he would NOT do if one of his buddies drove in the yard and said, “Dude, my car’s fucked, I need help.” If THAT happened, he would fire up the wood stove, move his bike and let his buddy pull his car in the garage and they’d be out there until the wee hours, working on that car.
I do NOT expect to have to try THREE FUCKING USELESS battery chargers and call my girlfriend who works for a fucking parts store for help before I remember that the ONE battery charger that works has been “on loan” since last summer.
I expect him to occasionally say, “My God, honey, you must be so tired from COUGHING ALL FUCKING NIGHT. I’ll sleep on the sofa once so you can get a good night’s rest.”
Which he actually DID last night.
And the taxes got done TODAY.
There’s a moral to that story in there somewhere.
I should be doing the taxes, but I’m in a snit at the old man and I doan wanna (spoken in my whiny voice). If you didn’t know me you might think it was because I didn’t get anything, not even a card, for Valentine’s Day.
But it’s not.
It’s because he’s a dick in bed.
Hey come back, this is NOT gonna be TMI, this time, I promise. Well there might be later in this post, but right now I’m referring to how he talks in his sleep, NOT about his tremendous sexual prowess (what, you don’t think I’ve been with him for 25 years because he’s independently wealthy, do ya?).
Every once in a while, usually if he’s sick, like with a bad cold, he talks in his sleep and says shitty things to me. One night last week, after I’d had a tremendous coughing fit, he told me to get out of bed then called the dog up next to him.
WTF.
Night before last, every time I woke up coughing he had something snotty to say. Then when his alarm went off, he says, “Well, at least SOMEONE gets to sleep.”
I am fully aware of the fact that he can’t be held accountable for anything he says/does in his sleep, but it pisses me off. I mean, I am already PISSED OFF because I just woke myself up for the third (or fourth or fifth) time coughing my guts out. Do I really need his assholery on top of it?
He always apologizes for anything he might’ve said and I know he doesn’t mean it, but STILL …
NOW for the real TMI – The Valentine’s Day Edition
Nope. Nope.
When we were first together, I gave BigDaddy a great big whack across the head. I can’t imagine why the hell he kept dating me.
Their forearms and hands.
Really? I grew up in and made my living for thirty years in a bar – pick one. I’ve heard ‘em all. Some worked, some didn’t.
Men’s room of a bar we hang out at 
This getting up at 4:30am is getting to be a royal pain in my ass. First of all, I was not MADE to get up that early. Second, getting up with the GD birds means I’m done working by eleven-ish, leaving me way too much time to do things that I am SUPPOSED TO DO – like housework. Third, getting up early means going to bed early, like 8pm. When the hell did I get old, can someone just remind me?
Feh …
So yesterday, I managed to get the laundry done. When I was cleaning out the dryer vent at the end of the last load, I pulled out a wad of FUR that weighed more than my cat. Now granted, my cat is a bit on the small side, but come on! The whole fur situation is getting out of hand over here and lint brushes obviously aren’t cutting it anymore.
What to do …
OH, speaking of birds, a mourning dove has taken up residence in our chimney. The chimney vents out the hot water heater, not our furnace, so I’m told it’s not a big problem.
Uh, yeah, it is a big problem. What if it DIES in there and stinks up my house? What if it breaks through the covering where the old heater pipe used to be (we live in a very old house, with a very old chimney) and ends up in my frocking dining room? Also, my cat is trying to climb the wall to get AT that noise she keeps hearing. This morning she was standing on the other side of the wall, staring up as if trying to figure out another way to get at it.
Never a dull moment over here, honestly.
So … no New Orleans. 
My daughter has turned out to be very conscientious and doesn’t want me to pay for everything. Where did that kid come from, lol? IAE, instead of NO, we will be doing Chicago again, hopefully in May. That’s alright, too, though. We had a ball when we went down there a couple of years ago and we missed a LOT.
Of course, I have fun with that kid just sitting in my dining room, so …
Speaking of kids, did I mention that TheBoy moved OUT? Yes he did.
Now here’s the weird thing; I miss him. Even though he spent the majority of the time in the basement and I never saw him, it seems so quiet around here without him. I keep thinking I hear his TV in the basement, and THAT is a little creepy.
Alzheimer’s anybody?
Okay, I’m off.
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