Wednesday, August 29

Grey Street

It was not fun. That is the most I can say about the visit by Papa G and #5 yesterday. The good thing is that I didn’t put Joe through it. A combination of him getting home late and me not being an idiot saved his evening.
Today I am constantly on the verge of tears. I feel like screaming at everyone. Every question is an idiotic waste of my time and each task seems like a cast off from Sisyphus. I am on edge to say the least; questioning every little detail of my life because somehow I let that woman get to me.
I am trying to turn my mind around to things that will make me feel better. I’m trying to think about the great pasta I’m going to have for lunch and the leftovers I have at home for dinner. I’m thinking about a great book I have at home and about the hoodie that’s on sale at the Police website. I’m thinking about hugs from Joe and doggie kisses. I’m trying to think of anything that calms me down because right now I want to rant and rail at him, at her, at the situation. I want to be a giant who could squash them. It is childish and pointless and I know that. My hurt feelings, on the other hand are ignorant of both the laws of physics and maturity.
It will be better tomorrow. By Friday I will barely remember it. By the time he heads back up this way in two weeks (without her) I’m sure I’ll be worried about something else entirely. But right now there is a rage living just beneath my skin and its roommate is a temper tantrum.
Please, PLEASE, no platitudes in comments, and no apologies either. Jokes would be great or new and inventive ways to commit mayhem of all sorts… tell me about the stupid thing you did last night or the new sexual position the birds outside your window invented…please?
Thanks guys :-)

8 Comments:

Susan said...

So there I was, naked, hair flying in the wind....

At least, that's the dream I just woke up from on my desk. I nearly drown in a puddle of my own drool. Seriously, can you imagine my obituary? "Woman dies at work: Drool thought to be cause"..

On top of that, someone like Belle would have to log onto my blog and post how I died. How much more horrible would that be? People would be in denile then trying not to laugh at how funny it was that I died face down in a puddle of drool! Then there would be the slight battle over certain "body parts" because I'm a donor. Great mess it'd be all around. Thank goodness I survived.

;)

WNG said...

Susan- You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me ha-aappeeeeeeeeeee when skies are grey...
And if you died like that I would NOT laugh...at least not out loud or near the coffin!

Susan said...

Nor would you insist on my name being listed as "Susan "The Droolster" Beth" on my tombstone.

WNG said...

I would not! You would be...hmm... now I have to think of a vaguely naughty tombstone name for Susan...

Flynn said...

This one time, I learned a new position... then I bought a new bed and had the coffee table fixed...

His Sinfulness said...

I know a position that used to make this girl I was with drool...

WNG said...

But Flynn, I like my furniture! Still...

Pater Major, sometimes you freak me out a little...drool is NOT sexy

His Sinfulness said...

I agree completely - I'm not with her anymore...