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All I’d really like to do is go home, burn these ungodly shoes, and relax.  What I’m going to do is check the mail, start dinner, make coffee, make tea, make a sandwich, get the night time / Josh’s morning pills together, and lay out clothes for the both of us for tomorrow.  By the time I’m done with that I’ll be ready to collapse.  Josh wants to spend time together.  This is code for fucking.  He wants to fuck, but he won’t actually come out and say it.  And he won’t tell me what “spending time together” means.  Besides fucking.

All I’ve done today is take care of him.  All I’ll do tonight is take care of him.  He’s helpless.  And I’m tired of it.  And I’m just plain tired.  Path of least resistance time again.  I will be friendly and polite and take care of his every want and need, but he’s not getting “me” tonight.  I’ve got none of “me” left to give.  I haven’t knit on my sweater since last Thursday and that’s just wrong.  I am ever so thankful that he’ll be in school again tomorrow night.