Killy! Killy! Stab! Stab!

I need to complain.

I know the consensus around here is that Hubs is good people, but even good people need a smack up the side of the head now and then. 

I need to be petty and snarky and the type of woman that carries her handy list of infractions around in her back pocket for just such an occasion.

I need to do it here so I don't do it out loud. 

I hate that woman. I don't want to be her in the world. I want to be the kind of partner that is level headed and calm and patient ... and can talk it through and resolve the bad feelings. Problem being, of course, is that I'm not typically any of those things.

It's about this whole pink job vs. blue job disparity. 

I'm not gonna lie here, people ... I am a good wife and partner. 

I know I just flipped my lid for the past few years, but in that time I still maintained a house, raised our children almost entirely alone and I was never not contributing financially. Even when off work, I still had a small pension income. (defensive, I know - but you'll see why)

...and this man is treated to the 'Hero's Welcome' when he comes home from working away all week. I clean the house from top to bottom the day before he gets back, mopping all floors and ensuring all laundry is finished and put in its place. On Friday, when he actually gets home, after I leave work (which I do nearly full time now) I go do the weekly grocery shopping, hit the liquor store and make sure we have ample wood and kindling for the evening (and this past weekend, I also spent an hour at the DMV trying to get plates transferred). Then when I get home, I put it all away, make supper, fix myself up for him, have a bath, fix my make-up, put on some perfume and something that looks nice - maybe jeans and a sweater, or shirt if it's warm ... and then I wait for his arrival.

I almost wish I was kidding as I'm reading it on this page.

Then when we can break away from the kids ... let's just say there are a great many jobs at which I am a black belt. 

He's got it pretty good.

I truly never nag. Never bitch at him about anything to do with him. I really don't bad mouth the man other than in a joking or playful way. Some women trash their husbands everywhere ... not really sure why. Not my gig at all. I gather up and do his laundry, usually make him sandwiches and pack up serving sized meals and snacks for his next week on the road. (Although, admittedly I'm not as good about that right this minute. I'm feeling this resentment toward him and just like I love with food, I punish that way, too.) Even when there are pressing issues ... like I was driving a vehicle back and forth to work that had an expired inspection on it ... and we had bought a winter beater instead of fixing said vehicle because it was less money. But the new car needed brake work and although I will say it has been rather cold to be working on brakes ... we've had the bloody thing since November. It just got on the road last week ... I never uttered a single word to nag him to do that. 

It feels like for every blue job that actually exists - and believe me, there are not many things I expect him to do: keep up on the cars, drag the recyclables/cable/whatever to the depot and shoveling in winter and the lawn in the summer - there a couple of hundred pink ones. 

The inequity is seriously plinking my nerves just now.

The worst of it is that he fucking well knows it! I can't even give him a pass on any of it for being a dumb man... noooooo ... he makes these little passive aggressive comments under his breath (in front of me - on the phone - sometimes even in text conversations), although conveniently loud enough for me to hear, that he needs to try harder and do special things for me or ... and here it comes folks, the kill shot ... I'll leave him for another man. Ah ... let's bring that up again and remind her she's flawed.

(Fuck that shit, man ... I'll be looking for another pink if I get outta this one.)

So ... what he actually wants is for me to give him a pass... and he wants it to seem like my idea. Fucking Geminis! 

I'm really irritated.

I do not want to spend time on arguing. It isn't worth it to me. I just need to find a way to impress upon him the kind of damage this is doing. I'm resentful ... and I'm not getting right with it. He needs to do something.

I mean JESUS! He left on Monday and when I got home from work, the dishwasher hadn't been emptied, there were a couple of empty coolers sitting in the middle of my kitchen floor, dishes all over the counter, stinky and overflowing garbage and recyclables... upstairs, there were clothes all over the place in our room and dirty laundry on the floor of our bathroom (there's the list).

He didn't leave until like 2:00! I mean COME ON! I imagine I sound petty, but I get to come home from work and clean up after him before I get to make his children dinner, clean up after it and then fight with the oldest for two hours to do her damned homework already! Oh and I was signed up for some seminar at the school to be a career coach for my kid. It was two and a half hours long! 

It isn't fair that I am revered so little by the man who used to prioritize me over everything else. Used to be thoughtful. Left little notes. Sent flowers (not that we have money for that crap right now), staged mini scavenger hunts that led me to a bathtub with a glass of wine.

I miss that guy.

I feel like I have three kids for whom I am an indentured servant.

Okay ... I'm done. I'm gonna go now ... and do more fucking laundry!

I'm not sure if I feel better or not. 

I guess we'll see how stabby I am this Friday when he arrives.

D - out.