After work one night, I was homeward bound after a particularly tiring day. During the drive home a phase of anxiety sets in. My thoughts turn to supper, dishes, more dishes, bedtime, and the other multitude of things that were going to require my attention. I won’t even bother to change out of my work clothes before diving in.
I got home and thought I would take a little while and sit on the couch. I was exhausted from the day and just needed to take a short break. The hubs came home about 30 minutes later. He was pissed I hadn’t started supper. We were going to have spaghetti. One of the easiest dinners on Earth. He gave me an attitude, the stinkeye, and started boiling water along with my temper. I’m apparently not allowed to be tired. “Screw you” I thought. Yeah, “Screw You!” Not something you want to say about the love of your life. Yet, here we are.
I got up and started putting clean dishes away that were in the sink next to him. He continued with his condescending comments so, I sat back on the couch. Inward f-bombs followed. Once dinner was done, he didn’t eat any of it, trying to prove a point. However, I ate it and it was delicious. And you know what, I didn’t feel guilty about that. Not one bit.
Balance, my friends, balance.
Tired Not Dead 