So if you read my earlier post today, you read how I blathered on about love... blah, blah, blah.
What is up with men bringing their bad days home and dumping that shit all over us????
It's not like we're not up to our elbows in our own crap days, right? Wiping other people's noses, or butts, picking out bits of dried cereal from the radiator grates behind the couch and always having to clean urine from everywhere in the bathroom (i.e. the walls, the flusher, the basin, the seat) except inside the toilet isn't exactly a picnic!
Oh, and having my blood cleaned and my lungs x-rayed....
BUT anyway, I wasn't exactly "feeling the love" when my husband walked in the door tonight. He didn't asked how my day was. He didn't offer to get me anything as he went to fix himself some dinner in the kitchen.
He just plopped down on the couch next to me with an enormous heap of lasagna.
So, here's the score:
So here's my beef- when I stroll into the kitchen, I call out, "does anyone need anything?"
Isn't that common courtesy?
Perhaps I'm cranky. Starvation and eating alone has that effect on me.
"Never argue at the dinner table, for the one who is not hungry always gets the best of the argument. " Richard Whately