Just a day....

It's really fucking cold in this house. My nipples lay in a state of constant misery for the last 5 hours. I did turn up the furnace but I thought it was a little early in the year to kick off the War of the Heater. Mr. Morgan reads what the thermostat says. That fucking thing is a known liar. It's in the hallway, so while it may be 71 at that specific spot - and taking the heat the dryer produces, I swear on my life it's easilly 65 in my studio and anywhere else in the house. But he likes numbers and taps on the thermostat like it's his best friend who could never be wrong just to show me that my body temperature is simply not in compliance.

We may go bowling later today, I don't know... I went pretty bratty last night, and woke up with the eyelids to prove I'd cried a great deal, so not sure emerging me into public veiwing is any good.

I've twice this morning wandered to the freezer...... where is the location of 99 percent of our food...... and became elated only to find it was just the box of said product, and all the contents were gone. Nothing like spying a snack just to be laughed at by an empty carton. Did it prompt me to throw out the empty boxes? Nope. Let Mr. Morgan be dissapointed too. So I am cold and hungry. And bratty?

Side note - sorry Prada love, but no I'm not calling the Birthday Girl. One earns birthday wishes. If I'm an asshole I'll know it by the lack of wishes when my birthday ....weeks, come along and I can dig that. I appreciate your threat of her making us/me feel guilty, but that's what mace guards off. I have decided to stop even remotely kissing her ass, birthday or not because she intentionally starts fights between Mr. Morgan and I for the sake that I am not "nice ENOUGH" to her. No one gets to have that power over my marriage, I resent her for it, and she's lucky I have utmost respect for Mr. Morgan and his father, because things would be very different and she would be so beyond put in her place. I know Prada, that you can mirror my sentiment. When I think of Birthday Girl, I see a person who props illness to such a degree begging for attention that is classifiable as mentally sick. My birthday card would simply read - "stop being so selfish. there are people worse off than you, be fucking happy for once and think abotu someone who isn't you". I frequently have to remind myself to do that, but the difference is I beg no pity for all my fucked-up-ness, I wallow in a good degree of frustration. Christ my own husband doesn't even know the extent of what's fucking wrong with me, yet I'd wager strangers and customers at her job have her full medical history. That's the big fucking difference, and dude.... I'm the fucking hypochondriac, something is wrong with that equation. And I am still annoyed she asked me to get her marijuana. I wasn't aware I was a drug dealer, or on a close enough level of friendship to remotely presume I would or could do that.

A cartoon for anyone I didn't send to... because after the rant, all I can think of is the gerbil .... "read the fucking sign, on strike, I'm not fucking DOING IT!" And I'm not! Happy birthday, want your frame back? http://www.joecartoon.com/pages/joemomma_anim

Hope you all are having a great weekend, it's nice and overcast here today..... spots of sun but definitely a sign winter is coming.

-DM