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I’ve been doing pretty alright with all the stress lately.  I’ve been handling school quite well, I was adjusted to not being home until almost 9:30 those two nights, been handling the extra stress at work that comes this time of year, and been doing well with the whole “flooded basement” thing.  Everything was fine until Josh started school last week.  Only this time it wasn’t me who had a hard time adjusting.

I know he doesn’t enjoy regular classroom classes, I know this.  But he’ll need them to get the degree and the welding classes were full.  And really, it’s not my responsibility to get him enrolled in classes.  It’s also not my responsibility to make him do his homework.  If he’d rather fuck off and fail, so be it.  My name is not at all affiliated with his school loans.  If he flunks out, it’s on him.

I also know that he’s stressed about the tax situation, as well he should be.  That was his mess and he ought to take care of it.  I’m helping because I’m nice.  I should really just let him fucking sink.

The real problem right now is that he’s blaming me for how terrible this weekend was and for saying something this morning about the alarms and for getting upset that he stormed off this morning instead of explaining that he was doing things for himself in an effort to be nice to me.  Yes, all of those things are my fault – or at least they were at lunch.  Now he’s changed his tune.

I don’t care.  I just don’t have enough left after this weekend to really give a shit about anything.  I’ve done the pieces of my job that I could today and I’m about to try to get through the reading we’ll discuss in class tonight.  I’m quite tempted to leave class early when it comes time to just work on our projects.  I honestly haven’t decided yet.  I’m wore out physically and wrung out emotionally.

And I had been in a pretty good place.  Thank you ever so much you lousy fucking douchebag who insists on telling me 10x a day how much you love and miss me.  You want me to miss you?  GO AWAY.

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