There are some religious folks who will tell you that god never gives you more than you can handle at one time. Really? Does anyone have god’s cell phone number? I’d like to call and tell him to knock it the fuck off, I need a break.
Wednesday night after I tried to go to sleep Josh came and woke me up. Evidently the plastic coffee canister that we’d been using as an ashtray on the back deck had melted through and burned a hole clean through two of the deck boards. We’re in the middle of a wicked drought right now so it’s nothing short of a miracle that this didn’t catch the house or the yard on fire. He assured me that he had gotten it under control. I went back to sleep, or tried to, and decided that I’d see for myself in the morning.
Yup, nice sized hole clear through the boards. I opted not to tell Mom right away because there wasn’t a damn thing either of us could do right then. I didn’t hide it from her, I just didn’t tell her until she was on her way home. She was very understandably upset. Actually no, 100% PISSED OFF. And rightly so.
Josh didn’t apologize, just like he still hasn’t apologized for destroying the laptop.
And this puts me in a terribly uncomfortable position. I get that it was an accident, but I get that this could have destroyed our home. The home my mom spent time with my dad in. The home I grew up in. We could have lost that because of what really comes down to him being careless and smoking when he’s too tired.
If it comes to the point of having to chose between the two of them I will chose Mom. I don’t even have to think about that. She’s always been there for me, and he’s really only ever proven that he’s good at causing problems.
So, welcome to this morning. I’m off work today because it’s my birthday. Yay. So far I’ve done some laundry, emptied a cat box, loaded some new software on my laptop, cleaned up some shit in my email accounts, made my plan of attack.
Grown ups don’t really get to celebrate birthdays. There’s always more stuff that needs to be done and, really, after age 21 there’s just not a whole lot of reason to celebrate.
I’ll go see my therapist later, maybe run to a grocery store or two, try to finish the chores, maybe do a little homework. The brat is coming this weekend and I am really not looking forward to that. And the ex wants us to take her 2 weekends in a row again. I’ve told that idiot I don’t know how many times that 2 in a row really doesn’t work for us, but she keeps pushing it. That’s fine, I’m fully prepared to let Josh deal with her and make myself scarce.
His psychiatrist asked him on Wednesday what he felt was his biggest source of stress. He grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me a little, and said, “this, this is my biggest stressor.”
I do damn near everything for that ungrateful sonofabitch. I must be the dumbest woman EVER.