Diary Of A Mad Sick Woman

Is there some reason why, when I am ill, I still have to do all of the shit around the house, that I have to do every other day of the year? Do I not get sick days? Apparently not.

I am so furious at my asshole of a husband. You know, I know he works, but you know what, so do I, and I don't get paid sick days, or paid vacation days, and to top it off, my work day never ends. I have a 24 hour a day job. I don't get to sit around and do nothing when I am ill. I take that back, I can do that, I just end up having the house fall down around my ears, because no one else knows how to vacuum, or fold laundry, or do any of the other things that need done. I am so tired of it being my sole responsibility.

I did laundry today. Like 6 loads of laundry. I vacuumed because you could practically swim in the crap on the floor. After I vacuumed, I steamed cleaned the carpets, because they looked horrid. On top of all of that, I watched and fed, and cuddle a two year old. A two year old, I might add, that does more around my house then my own husbands does.

So did the dishes get done this evening? No. So before bed guess who gets to do them? Yep me. Then I get the idiotic response of, oh let me help, because he knows I am pissed off because he is a lazy bastard. Yeah, like I am going to let you get in my way, so I can brain you, until you can no longer speak. Great fuckin idea moron boy.

Then I get the
"Is something wrong?"
Like it is a bad thing for me to be pissed off because he doesn't do shit around the house. I so hate him at times. He drives me nutty.

So this weekend, because I don't feel on deaths door, just on deaths sidewalk, I will have to re steam all of the carpets, because I only got spots done. I will have to clean my bedroom, the toy room, Spenser's room, the kitchen, the living room, the computer room, and take down the fucking Christmas lights he was going to take down last weekend, but instead he played his stupid ass computer game.

Like I said, I am furious. I think I may go on strike. You know, not do his laundry, not cook for him, not clean his shit. Just do shit for me. Bastard.

I hate men sometimes. I hate my man sometimes.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH