BLEGH.

2004-01-15 at 4:56 p.m.

I'm way way way WAY stressed about money in just a continuous knot-in-my-stomach kind of way. I have to fill out the financial aid for school, and if that turns out well maybe--maybe--that would help. But in the meantime, I'm just always feeling like we're never ever going to be able to own a home. Maybe not even with borrowing money from my folks but apparently, as usual, that's not even up for discussion.

And then let's not even discuss the baby topic.

And then school? how am I going to go to school and still have these jobs going on?

So with that background smattering of low-level stress, today has just sucked.

It started with me doing one of my work-from-home jobs, which is usually nothing more than a time suck, but today was also just a suck. I was supposed to do two installations by phone, and they both fizzled. We came against problems I'd never had before and just couldn't solve.

And the pup! Jesus God, I don't know what it is that we're not giving her, but all she did all morning was whine. Continuous, goddamn whining. It was like a colicky child, except not. She had food, she had water, I let her out twice and all she wanted was to come back in, I stopped work to pay attention to her and play and pet but then I had to go back to work and all she did was whine. I wanted to throttle her.

More, I just felt like I was letting her down some way.

And then. THEN.

So, our landlords are going through a bad bad BAD BAD divorce. She's crazy, he's stupid, she's taken out a restraining order on him, he's trying to take the kids away, and they're both telling us this and both Andrew and I are all, y'know, we just don't want to know and please don't suck us in to your vortex of BITCH ASS CRAZY. But now they're selling the house, and so they're showing it, and so in the midst of my installation nightmare, whiny dog, money stressed morning, as I'm running out of time to solve the problems I've created...

...I had to let in realtors so they could take pictures of my home.

With it's dirty underwear on the floor and breadcrusts on the counter top. And the pup going nuts.

I lost it. Andrew came home from lunch and I frigging lost it.

I'm tired of bearing all the stress. I'm tired of coming in last, behind Andrew's job, behind my jobs, behind the dog. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being the one who's home to let the realtors in, I'm tired of driving his punk ass to work while I take the bus home, at 9:00 at night, I'm tired of all the Bailey's being gone when I haven't had ANY and we only bought that GINORMOUS JUG A WEEK AGO and I'm tired of finding the milk gone from the fridge, but no one put it on the grocery list, and I'm tired of it.

I"M SICK AND TIRED OF IT.

And then I got to work, and instead of being able to hole up in the back and take care of a list of projects as long as my arm, I find that the morning crew--as usual--sat on their sweet peppy little asses, and a bunch of MUST DO NOW projects are--as usual--left to the evening crew to do.

I'm just sick of it.

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