.
.
After some rest and relax time, after being home, we started hitting it again. Just a little of this and a little of that. One last thing, I am told. Boxes. They are broken down but need to go into the local, in town, community bin. Sure. So I bust those down even more, to fit into the vehicle. Get them in. Then wait. She finally comes out and we head out. She wants to hold half of the bin lid open just a bit. I open up one side completely, scoot her aside nicely and open that side, then unload in two seconds rather than five minutes. She isn't happy, but that's tough. I'm not being mean, I just want to get this done... not my way, the fast right way. Then she wants me to get out and get her a paper. I give her the money and suggest if she wants it, she can get it. She does so she does. Fine. Home.
You are going to load the old water heaters, tonight, right? Huh? No. Not even. Don't even think about it. And, once again, no. I am done, and more. The drive, the various work, the bits and pieces, the heat. I am done. She didn't like it but I will not negotiate. I do what I can, no more, mostly. I have pushed today. She didn't have to drive. Next time I am going to have her drive. Should settle her down a bit. I have limits and I've been bending those all to heck. No. And I refuse to even feel bad about it.
A shower, before too long. But I would like to stay up a few more hours. As the day cools, sleep will be much easier to slip into as well. Lord knows I love my showers like never before. Tired, sore, pains where they shouldn't be, I'm done. She is really pushing and bitchy this time. I'm not sure what her deal is. Although I am suspicious of most women. They'll kill you if they can. Push push shove push. I'm not going into my grave lightly, that's for sure. Another week and a half? We'll see. If I have to, I'll pick up and go to a hotel for a night or two. I will. I'll leave my cell phone here, too!
Well... on to relaxing. Later.
You did name her "Momma Doom"...
ReplyDeleteYou could always go out for a mother and son tattoo session. That should be good for bonding
ReplyDeleteD.C.,
ReplyDeleteI "gave" her that monicker about like you would "give" a great white the title "shark". I gave her nothing. Don't let that "eek" fool you.
foam,
All I had to do was say chest pains. I don't get em' often, but I've been pushing pretty hard for a while now.
I'm thinking water balloon bonding is more on the menu... just saying.
I wanted a tat when I was a "kid", several really, but service folk, certain among them, talked me out of it for reasons. She already has her tat, won't get more. Besides, she doesn't like my ideas... "death" on the right side of my head, "dismemberment" on the left... the names of my fists... in old English script.
She has a tat? Cool. I have none,
ReplyDeleteFunny, when I was younger I named my fists too.
One was named cemetery, the other hospital...as in where folks would end up if they messed with me. Nobody ever took me seriously though.
Heh! Yep, right on her boebie... A rose. If you get one, and want to embarrass your boys, just talk about roses... Mo!Ther!
ReplyDeleteActually, I didn't name them. My 'mates' did. I did think up the 'toos though. And, I am the one who doesn't take them seriously... It's more scruff reverse psychology self-dressingdown for me, if there might be a hair of truth in there. The size of sledge hammers but much faster.