Please remove my mute button

Last night we went gambling, lost. That's fine. Came home had a drink as Mr. Morgan fed the dogs copious amounts of salami. I raised a finger but decided that talking had done me no good all day, why change that up.

A few minutes later I hear....

"Someone threw up."

Okay.

"Who?"
"I don't know but they are your dogs."

NOW they are my dogs? When something shits or pukes out of acceptable boundaries, they revert to being mine. Any other time offense is taken that they aren't "ours".

It was nice to come home from a heavy drink fest as my day sucked shit on a septic tank level (Mr. Morgan was good, he doesn't drive us all drunk saying weeeeeee) to clean dog puke. I lost a lot of good, and paid for, liquor, cleaning that up. My stomach hasn't been good since.

I did chores all day today while he was at work, naturally feeling chatty because the dogs don't talk and I've been pent up all day. Mr. Morgan's definition of a joke needs improvement or he at least needs to understand why I might not see something he says as one.

He told me he'd had Quizno's for lunch and I enthusiastically took that to be an invition to converse. I mentioned I don't like that place much because it's a lot of work just to get a sandwitch.

"What kind of bread? Toasted? How toasted? Toasted first then add cheese or melt the cheese? What type of..."
Flat interuppted with "Ok I get it."

THAT is a joke? It was not presented with a smile so uh..... I took it to be just like when I talk about work for more than 30 seconds at the end of the day he will say "Well you are home now so, enough." and it is most definitely not a joke. But of course, sigh, he got all fucking ass hurt that I snapped back and told him I was sorry to bother him. He made it seem like I was reacting crazy, which is probably what I am pissed off more about. He works with that asshole friend of his all day, comes home and is on a headset within an hour that you can talk through the computer to, and talks to the guy until bedtime. Did he marry the wrong person?

I get in trouble if I talk to anyone at work, can't talk at home.. FUCK! What ends up being left is talking to fucking strangers who can see it in my hopeful eyes that I am desparate and they risk never getting away from me if they let me start.

I am getting extremely thin on patience with everyone. I wouldn't mind something nice happening to me soon as lately it's just been a series of obnoxious things, one after the other. Can't even be happy at home, that's fucking lame.

Maybe I'll find something to build. Building is good.

-DM