Whine

I am tired of being the girl with the stiff upper lip...and the one who makes do, the survivor....the one who decides which bills to turn off and which to keep...the one who keeps going into survival mode every time something crappy rears its ugly head...and it does, seemingly all too often for our means.

Nothing is really wrong.

I'm tired of arguing with Jon over stupid crap simply because I ask too many questions simply because he hasn't given me any pertinent information and he is grouchy.  Seemingly the most innocuous subjects can cause him to become angry as of late.

I think he is tired of me taking control and running with it...only...I'm the main reason we have survived financially the past few years...and his judgement with money is questionable--on his own admission.  I think he is tired of me being the head of the household and yet utterly proud that I am so good at what I do at the same time.

He whines incessantly that we don't have much time off work together and yet tonight made plans with people I don't know or even like to stay out until they feel like driving him back to wherever the hell he parked his Jeep so he can come home.  It just makes no sense to me. 

I am supposed to fix all ills. It's my fault the dryer and the oven don't work simply because I don't really care that much if they do work.  We've done fine without a dryer for...7 months...and the oven's been broken for...I dunno...a year or more?  But Jon whines about this a lot for someone who hasn't lifted a finger to fix either one. I know if I was truly bothered by the fact that either was broken, I would have fixed them by now. I truly just don't care.

I am supposed to be a key finder, phone finder, finder of inhalers, glasses and anything lost. Only I don't want to be a finder of anything that I didn't lose.  No idea how he can't recall where he sets things down.  It's not my responsibility to locate objects.

I am expected to wash the dishes, vacuum the carpet, clean up after the animals, and in general do the laundry and yet the trash sits from last week because someone never managed to walk it to the curb. The one chore that is his besides the shopping and the cooking (because he cooks, he gets to shop) and takes the least amount of time...he rarely remembers to do it.  He cooks more rarely than ever as well, preferring to eat greasy garbage then arguing with me when I complain that I'm hungry too and that I can't eat loads of things out.

I guess I'm feeling under appreciated by the one person who is supposed to appreciate me the most.


And all I can think is that I want to go play in the rain under some trees...or walk in the rain under some trees like I used to do on days where I'm feeling moody and just breathe in the clean air. Only, there is no clean air, or peaceful quiet trees...there are only streets with people and cars where I don't feel safe wandering about after dark.  I used to wander at all hours with no fear of anything.  There's no going back, really, and that makes me sad.