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Irritation At The Site

I am so.  freaking.  tired.  of the little-boy mentality in grown men.  I’m talking about my spousal unit and my sons, but also the bureaucracy run predominantly by men.  I’m an equal-opportunity bitcher today.

Case in point: spousal unit asked if I wanted to go somewhere today.  I said yes, mainly just to get out of the house.  It would have been a short trip, by necessity, but sounded like a good way to drop-kick the 4-wall-itis which tends to creep in for us both.  Daughter unit was dealing with cranky baby so I invited her to come along, which should lull short stuff to sleep in the car and also get her out of the house.  She said yes, whereupon spousal unit went into full pout and decreed he’s not going.  For which I gave him the evil eye many times over.  He’s now pretending innocence, as though he weren’t transparent as glass.  Asshole.

Younger son, meanwhile, makes significantly more money than I do (in the realm of double if I remember right); however he has erupted like a festering lump of pus on our sofa and seems mighty disinclined to remove himself, despite some pointed recommendations that he get a place of his own.  He owns his own 4-bedroom house, which he elected to rent out, and instead takes up valuable real estate in our too-small living room.  Asshole Jr., much?

Older son and DIL have moved back in with her mother because despite the fact that they are both working full time and making a hellacious amount of cash, they can’t quite pay for a one-bedroom apartment.  They’re not paying for child care or anything like that, but because the DIL wants to take time off for a year after the new baby is born in February, they figured they can only afford to mooch from her mom.  I want to throttle my son because of it.  He makes enough that if he were even remotely responsible with their money they could live on their own in a reasonably-priced apartment.  But no.  That’s more trouble than his inherent lazy streak will accommodate.

And I guarantee you that this legal travesty is male-caused.  Thanks to the over-the-top reactionary attack on drugs in the US, victims of violent crimes are thrown under the bus.  It’s all about the way police departments collect grant money, screw the reason for their existence.  The story is here if you want to read all the gory details.

Let’s just say I’m not feeling in a very generous mood toward the male species in general at the moment.  Sorry Mike if you read this.  I know now that not every male is a pompous ass.  Apparently only the ones who attach themselves like parasites to me.

I may still get out short-term so I don’t murder my other half.  I’m getting mighty tired of his being a spoiled brat.  THAT part is consistent.  At least now I have the luxury of commiserating with his big sister on the fact, heh.  I still love him.  Most of the time, anyway.  That doesn’t excuse his behaviors and doesn’t mean I don’t get royally pissed off at him when it is well-deserved.

Still house hunting online.  I would very much like to go out and check out some of these places in person but until I have the cash in hand I need for closing costs I won’t do that to my realtor.  It’s a really, really long drive for her into that part of the Valley.  I don’t want to go back until I’m ready to put my John Henry on the paperwork.

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