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According to Josh, I’m hateful.  I’ve been hateful all summer.  I don’t know what it means to be nice to him.  I wake up pissed off and I stay that way until I go to sleep.  I talk about my mental illnesses and my feelings entirely too often.  There’s really nothing redeeming about me at all according to him.

Let’s ignore the fact that my sleep got messed up when I took that class and that, really, it’s still messed up.  Let’s ignore the fact that the basement, where I live, flooded – twice – and that the renovations took the better part of 2 months.  Let’s ignore the fact that since somewhere near the start of the summer he’s dropped $20k worth of old tax debt on me.  Let’s ignore the fact that he bitched and moaned non-stop about his classes, to the point where he for sure failed the one and quite possibly the other.  Let’s ignore the fact that he doesn’t pay enough attention to his school stuff that he didn’t apply for financial aid again when he needed to and now he’s going to have to come up with $504 for summer tuition – for classes he didn’t pass.

Yes, let’s ignore all of that and just say that I’m a hateful cunt of a bitch.  Let’s.

Today is the first day of the semester and the first time in 2 weeks that I’ve been back in my regular office.  Every single one of our mission critical systems has gone down today – at the same time.  It’s supposed to get up to 98 degrees today.  Tonight is my first class.  My neck is still quite sore.

But by all means, let me just shut the fuck up and be chipper because, really, that’s what you’d like – me to just paste on a fake smile, listen to your drivel, and let you fuck me whenever you feel like it.  That’s what a good wife would do.