Well shit…my just now 2 yr old fridge seems to have gone out. The fridge part isn’t cooling at all. Steve called the 800 number and they offered us an extended waranty for $275 or they will come fix it for a $75 service call plus parts and the parts can run as much as $400. This when we are trying to come up with $377 to make a house payment. I swear things just never ease up.
I talked to the Dr about my nasties that Steve keeps complaining about, and she felt he was objecting to my regaining my voice which is what I thought…he doesn’t like me having opinions and I’ve been quiet for a long, long, time. We cut the muscle relaxer in half to see if that won’t help the sleepies I fight in the mornings and afternoons. It seems to. I find myself thinking things like ‘shave, cut your fucking hair, get away from me.’ I am not wanting sex when he hasn’t showered for me and it’s 4 freaking a.m. Maybe I am a bitch. I can’t suggest anything without pissing him off. I don’t feel the same as I did back when I was in my 40’s – women hit their sexual peak right before menopause – and I’m on the down side. It is what it is. When I wanted it, he wasn’t interested and left me to cry more nights than not. Now that I don’t, he’s all offended. It’s just show. I don’t feel loved. Just a hug or tender word would go so far – instead it’s like a freaking competition as to who hurts worse and who’s more capable. It annoys the hell out of me to have everything I say applied as if I’m attacking him. I barely let myself speak to avoid the fight. Blah. I had made a decision that if he doesn’t pull together the payments and save the house – GET A JOB – I was going to VA. That’s out now, so I’ll just keep dealing with the bed I made. I won’t be the first woman to carry on. We’ll be doing our best to stay here until Geoffrey graduates then help him get into college. Steve talks like we’ll stay together, sell the house and move to NC. I guess that’s fine.
I’m knitting as always. I have a couple things to add to my Etsy Store, and a few to donate. It’s hard to know what to do when everything’s made from stash. Maybe toys will be popular.
Anyway…it’s 9:30am and Steve’s just gone back to bed. I guess he doen’t plan on working much today. He’s got bronchitis to be fair, but if he’s going, it should be early, not late. Here I go again, picking…picking, picking. It’s all I do these days.