Er...

Okay, so I just got home from work. When I got off work at around midnight, I had to go to the casino to cash my check. After that, I had to stop and pick up milk, and get some food from Arby's. My usual Thursday night routine. I am a little pissed. We were supposed to be working final pack tonight. At least that is what I was told last night. So when I got ready for work, I put on my new favorite pair of jeans. They are now covered in gravy. The same gravy that would not wash out of my brand new Eeyore hoodie. If this shit doesn't wash out of my jeans, I just may scream. The hubby once again got absolutely nothing accomplished today, so I have to stay up for the next few hours doing laundry, or go to work naked tomorrow. I wash my laundry every night. I usually leave them in the dryer, when I get ready for work the next morning. I guess it is my fault. I am usually in a hurry to be gone, and so I do not get them out and fold and put them away. But what I will never understand, is why this man, who does nothing all day long, can not even do that much for me. I work at least eight hours a day, five or six days a week to pay the fucking bills. I do all the cleaning (admittedly I have let it go as of late), all the grocery shopping, all the bill paying, all the doctors appointments, dentist appointments, orthodontist appointments, school functions, parent teacher conferences, church functions, etc. etc. etc. Why is it too much for me to ask that he fold and put away my clean clothes? Why do I come home every night, and find them strewn all over the fucking house, so that I have to stay up and do laundry at two in the morning? Why do I have to be the one to crawl out of bed, usually within two hours of finally crawling in bed, to get my daughter ready for school in the mornings? Why do I have to be the one who does absolutely everything that ever needs done. I swear, if I was single, at least I would have one less person to clean up after. One less mouth to feed. One less argument everyday. If my sister doesn't cave, and go back to her hubby (which sad to say is what probably will happen), I will try and convince her to move with me. I want to move far away. Far away from all the headache, and all the heartache. Florida is still in my mind. I want sun. I want sea. I want freedom. I want to feel like me again. Over the years I have lost myself. I got married far too young, to someone who never really loved me. He thought he did at the time, I am sure. But, the booze will always win. I will always come in second. I am so tired of second. Saddest part of all, is I am choosing second place again. What the fuck is so wrong with me, that I do not deserve first for a change? What did I ever do that was so bad that I do not deserve to be loved the way I want to be loved? I guess I have finally just accepted the fact that I will never get the fairytale. But what was so wrong with wanting it? Why is it that every time I reach for something that I really, desperately want, I just get slapped back into reality and told no? Ugh. Sorry for the trip down self pity lane. It has just been one of those days. I guess I am just thinking too much. I shouldn't do that. It never ends well. I am tired, just worn the fuck out. I am sad today, and I do not really know why. I am feeling guilty a bit, about the things I am doing these days. I am smoking too much. I am drinking too often. I am ignoring some of my core values, in order to be happy. I am just a little bit fucked up and confused right now. I will be better tomorrow I am sure. But for tonight, I will wallow in my self pity, and my guilt. Tomorrow, I will call My Honey, and I will feel better. He does that for me. He makes me feel better, warmer, safer, saner, more confident, prettier, sexier, smarter, funnier. He makes me happy. And that is all I need. He is all I need to be okay for a little while longer. And that is enough for now. That's all, Goodnight.