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Sandman Victim in Post-Valentines’ Day Massacre

My weekend is off to a less-than-auspicious beginning.  I was looking forward to having two straight days off, which was supposed to begin tonight with a date with my husband.  The plan was, he would meet me at work and we’d go for dinner and so on.  We’d been planning this for a while, and I’d been looking forward to it all week.  It was finally going to be a chance to unwind.

Needless to say, it didn’t happen that way.  My spousal unit crapped out on me, begging off with the excuse that he wasn’t feeling well.

Obviously it wasn’t something he could control.  Nobody wants to be sick.  I get that totally.  My daughter’s coughing her ass off the past few days, too.  Kind of sharing the wealth, you know?

I still lost it.  Not enough to come in screaming obscenities (though the thought did cross my mind.)  I kept driving and planned not to come home tonight at all.  If I’d had more in the bank I’d have rented a motel room for the night, but was too broke and too damned tired to make a night of it.  So while I didn’t come home screaming, I definitely did arrive with a nice big fat chip on my shoulder, one that’s expanded geometrically and been splashed with neon paint ever since.

Yeah, I get that people don’t feel well and don’t feel like going out for a good time.  I just kept thinking that I have to haul my fat ass out of bed and go to work regardless of what I feel like.  I have to get stuff done when I feel like shit, because I foot the bill for the whole clan.  I love my family and I’m not looking for a divorce (at least not at the moment.)  But the past few weeks I’ve been pushed to the breaking point and this was definitely not good timing.

Normally when I’m up this late, G comes shuffling out to grouch that I need to come to bed so he can get some sleep.  He claims he doesn’t sleep well without me there.  (Which is bullshit, but that’s another story for another time.)  Tonight he’s leaving me in peace.  I think I probably scared him.  He should be scared, because while I’m rarely itching for a fight, tonight would be his lucky night.  And it won’t be pretty if I let rip.

I was exhausted hours ago, and unfortunately so wound up I couldn’t sleep.  Now I’m gonna go take a double dose of sleeping pills and hope for oblivion.  Wish me luck.

Well, wish me luck and a good solid few hours’ sleep.

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