Our evening began in Peter Seschell's comfortable study in his NY townhouse...
Irritated yet again. Surprise, surprise, surprise. I do believe I�ve got a touch of pre-PMS. The �slight� irritability being sign one, sign two being that I bloated overnight and am now the size of a whale. No fucking kidding, I can actually SEE the difference. Like, those almost four pounds I lost? All back in water weight. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. My pants still fit the same, but I sure do feel like a moose.
Oh, yeah, and then I�m all motivated to get this billing shit done, so I woke super early this AM to get started before my house is crawling with rugrats. Of course, what do I do first thing when I sit here? Oh yeah, d-land. And everyone�s updated, so I read everyone, and left a few notes, and was way disappointed that I missed my diversion last night. But anyway, that killed a good 20-30 minutes.
So then I move onto Quickbooks. I�ve got this great idea to get the billing done lickety-split, so I get all into it. For a few minutes anyway. I devised this job list for Hub a few weeks ago, to make it easier for him to give me the necessary info (otherwise, he�d give me a handwritten list, which is never legible and always has something fucked up about it, resulting in my getting impatient and pissed off). Like, this is almost idiot proof. Dates, names, even a spot for him to put in his hours for the next town over--all he has to do is check shit off and put a number in the box for the town. Almost idiot proof. Because you have to put a date on the top of the page, where it says �date�. That�s somewhat important, I think. Hub does not think so. So my irritation increased with the sheet that is all filled out, with the exception of the date. Good thing the fucker wrote �storm� on last Thursday�s date on the calendar, or I�d truly be freaking out. I have no fucking patience for that shit. I don�t think I should have to do research on top of everything because he�s too fucking dense to write down the date. Throw me a frickin� bone, here.
I don�t see myself being a good boss. I�d be that bitchy, impatient boss. You know, the one where you�d better make sure whatever you present to them has all the T�s crossed and the I�s dotted or you will be subject to hellfire (I just worked for her at the credit union, I�m familiar with the type). That�s going to be me. I know it.
Argh. Of course, he�s not here. He had to go �check a job� that he thinks he missed. I mean, that only takes an hour and a half, right? Sure. Yah. Right. Whatever. He�s on his way back now, and called to see if I wanted a coffee. Um, did you see the fucking pot of coffee I made this morning? Hello, I know you did, you had a cup. All he does is drink coffee all day long. Dunkins, large four sugars light. He�ll have like four a day. Or more. And not eat anything, unless he stops for BK. And he drinks a ton of Pepsi. Wicked healthy diet. Then he bitches when I make brown rice or whole wheat couscous, cuz I�m trying to help him eat at least some healthy shit.
It doesn�t matter what he says or does this morning, he is number one on my shit list. And again, he will come in, bring me my newspaper (from the past three days, finally) and take off to his �painting� job. And leave me stuck here yet again with all these fucking kids. Oh, and is my glass thingie on the storm door yet? NO. And we�re looking at more snow tomorrow. If I have to do it myself, I am so going to be a bitch about it.
Ack! Enough of that. I could go on forever. My extreme distaste for the man lately has not stopped me from having crazy sex with him the past two nights in a row. I�d thought he was really failing me for a week or so there, like he wouldn�t be able to satisfy me, but he�s proven himself worthy yet again. At least he�s good for something! And I�ve realized that my recent horniness must be a result of the fact that I must have hit my sexual peak. I see no other explanation. I mean, I�m at the age. And I doubt I�ve ever been this horny in my life. As a matter mcfact, I know I never have. And he�s not bitching. When you go from like once a week (he bitched about that: �How come you always make me wait SO LONG???�) to like four or five times a week, if not more, then what is there to bitch about?
Oh, AND, I almost forgot to mention this delightful little piece of news, I�m going to an Athena�s party Friday night. A member at the credit union is a rep and invited some of the girls and they in turn, knowing I am inclined to enjoy such a party, invited me. (For those that don�t know, Athena�s sells sex toys. And such). Hub is all about it. And I don�t care if he is insulted when I bring home a big fat gigantic dildo. I don�t think he will be. I wish I had a fucking catalog or something. Maybe I�ll check online. Anyway, this chick that�s having the party, the rep (who�s like the last person you�d expect to be into this shit) has all the inventory at her house. So whatever you buy, it�s there already. Whoo!
Okay, so in the time since I started writing this, some good shit and some bad shit has happened. First of all, we had a tiff because he says he told me that a customer paid already, when in fact he didn�t, because I was ready to bill them out with a previous balance. He was so insistent he told me, but he must have told his other bitch, cuz it wasn�t me. And of course, it starts small and gets big. And as always, I�m the bitch. Rrrrrr. That fucking pisses me off. So I go off upstairs cuz I had to cry, and who calls but Smokey. He needs a loan. That�s fine. Smokey is a friend in need right now, and seeing as I was a friend in need for the first ten, fifteen years of our friendship, I�m more than happy to help out. Besides, it means a trip out of this house to the credit union. And a hookup with some more �pins. Much needed today.
Oh, and my supreme bitchiness did pay off. Because, just to appease me, Hub went all the way down cellar and got the glass thingie for the storm door and it has been successfully installed. I figure, the screen will be put back in around August or so. Of course, he just left and my fucking newspapers are in his truck. Rrrrrr, again.
Who the fuck invented this marriage shit? Get him on the horn. I have a few words for him.
Yeah, I am truly going bananas a la �The Shining�. Only Jack only had one kid with him. And he was a sweet kid, except for that being possessed shit. Which is a cakewalk compared to the crap I go through sometimes. I cannot wait for spring. I can�t wait to get my patio table back out there and go out and at least enjoy the sun. And green leaves. And green grass. At least I won�t be stuck in here so much. Beginning in May, I�m out there in a tube top to work on my tan. Skin cancer, schmin cancer. I love the sun. And I miss it. I�m going nuts without it.
Well, my kid load was lightened today, too. One not coming, two not due until after noon. That�s cool with me. And on the way home from the credit union, I picked up a six pack. It would�ve been a twelve, but I only had five bucks in cash on me. Looks like I�ll have to make another trip out! Nothing like a 12 pack on a Tuesday night! A 12 pack and a diversion.
Okay, I�m outta here. Maybe I�ll get that billing done.