Yep, as of two hours ago it has left the building.
I’m sure I’ll get it back, maybe later today, hopefully later today.
Where did it go you ask? My husband beat it down until it just ran away!
I have been planning all week to spend today, WITH HIM, getting our decorations up while the girls were with his parents. He is sitting at his computer (he did get up and “catch” the tree when I tried to throw it out of the attic). He says he feels tired and light headed. Hmmm…
He also said he might not put up the lights outside this year, but that since I spent two days getting the leaves out of the yard (we’re talking 8 or 9 hours of raking and burning) that he would put Baby Jesus out there for me. Thanks honey… you’re so sweet… now how about that last pile of leaves that needs to be burned… you can sit on your tail and do that.
I don’t like feeling this way about him. He works hard, and I have no doubt that he’s tired. I’m just frustrated because he knows that sitting in front of that computer screen playing WOW is just going to make it worse. And why is it that I have to wait for everyone else to “feel like” doing something. They never wait for me to “feel like” doing something, I just have to get up and do it.
For the record…. I rarely “FEEL LIKE” fixing supper, or scrubbing the toilet but I do it.
I also do not “FEEL LIKE” cleaning the cat box or the rat cage (which were NOT supposed to be on my list of things to do) but I do it because no one else ever “FEELS LIKE IT”.
I was up this morning over an hour before him. I made coffee, checked my blog, started the roast in the crock pot for supper, and did a load of laundry…. he got up, went without coffee-until I brought him some, and has played WOW. He moved twice, once to ride to the dump (because his Dad showed up with the truck-had to take the opportunity when it came) and once to catch the tree. Why am I working so hard? Shouldn’t I be goofing off?
Well, I’m typing now because I’m eating lunch. PB&J; with plain potato chips on the side. It’s very yummy, but almost gone. So I must leave now, and go back to work. Surely if he gets up on Monday with nothing to wear to work it will again be my fault.
(Somebody sing me a Christmas song… lure my Christmas Spirit back…)