I’m really tired of this. I liken it to being six months pregnant [seven or eight if it’s your first baby]. I was completely done with being pregnant. I knew the baby couldn’t come yet. All the same I was ready to move on. I was ready to say good-bye to swollen ankles, aching joints and heart burn.
I’m ready to say goodbye to the constant pressure on my sternum, the upset stomach and anxiousness. Could the person with all of the answers please step forward? This isn’t funny anymore, not that it ever was.
So, here I sit, waiting for the person with the well-wand to bang me over the head with it.
I could leave, but I think gainful employment would be necessary, even if he left. To that end, I’m waiting to hear if I was accepted into a training program. Then there is the small issue of counseling. I did promise to give a bash.
That’s it! What if I give my husband a bash instead? That could work, don’t you think? If something doesn’t work don’t you give it a sound thump, kick or smack?
What’s that? Assault, you say? Well crap. And I promised to play nice? Says who? Okay so it is on the blog, but I could delete it and no one could prove otherwise. Yeah that’s it, I’ll play stupid.
‘But officer, he pissed me off. A true jury of my peers will find me innocent.’ I could deliver that line with a straight face. See (blank stare) I’m good at it.
The ‘true’ jury of my peers is the trick? Yeah, that could be tough. Not that there aren’t twelve disgruntled wives, but that the prosecution would allow that many in one room at the same time. I’d like to see that though. Crooked grin This thought cheers me.
Cheered is always a good thing.