Happy Friday!
It was a very foggy and chilly 60 degrees at the park this morning. I could have used a jacket.
Now it is a NOS 79 degrees.
I’m grumpy, very grumpy. I had had a post typed out Wednesday, but I reread all the grumpiness and thought better about hitting send.
The park is not a happy place for me anymore. Half the people go on the small dog side with Lucy dad, and the rest of us stay on the big dog side with Barky and Humpy. I think when Barky mom got shitty with me the other day it just did something to me. Even though I got a somewhat apology the next day (she was in a bad mood because she is dieting), it’s the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. I felt like screaming at her, I am the only goddamn friend you have left here, and you are going to talk to ME that way?
Poor Ripple, who is so chill and mild, was minding his own business and Barky got in his face and started barking at him. I don’t know what set Jackson off, but the next thing we know, he is running over ready to fight with Ripple. His owner had to pull him away, and Jackson is usually a nice dog.
Echo went on the small dog side with Lucy dad. As soon as she sees him pull up, she is hauling ass for the gate so she can go on the small dog side with him.
So sad about The Queen. I’m not really into royalty, my best friend in HS could tell you all about them, I had no interest. I think she was a great lady, she had class and dignity, and I respected her. I would have loved to have tea with her, I think she would have fascinating stories to tell.
I couldn’t care less about the title shifts, what I want to know is me-again going to be allowed to attend the funeral?
When I was married all chores fell on me. First my ex told me that since my work week was 35.5 hours and his was 40, I had to put in 4.5 hours of house irk before I could expect anything from him. Then he told me since he made 3x what I made, I had to do 3x as much house irk as he did.
I told him that 3 times nothing is nothing and went on strike.
There’s a reason he is an ex. That’s not it.
Oh, I forgot the part about what I was doing was women’s work (at my job) and that didn’t count as real work anyway.
Growing up I had chores on Saturday morning, but usually along the lines of, Do you want to vacuum or dust? Then do you want to dust or do dishes? Do you want to do dishes or fold the laundry?
I always did as I was asked, thinking I was being a helpful good daughter.
Years later I heard my mother laughing and telling my nieces how stupid and easily manipulated I was, and that my sister was the smart one who, when offered a choice of chores, would say ‘neither’ and walk out the door.
My son and I have a system that mostly works for us. I feel guilty sometimes because I think he does more, but then other times I get irritated because he hasn’t done enough.
Well, I typed out a bunch more shit and deleted it, because I’m grumpy and it showed.