Day 34

One NEW Day At A TimDay 19 & 2

Day 34

Thursday, September 25, 2014

It’s still only Wednesday night, but I feel like writing.  I’ve been screamed at today to stop, but I am anyway.

The day started out OK, even considering it was chilly and pouring rain almost all day.  Once again, DN got mad at me because I didn’t want to walk all the way to the shopping center in the rain.  Turned out she hadn’t gotten *all* the facts,.  OK, to clear things up: DNa is a nurse.  DN2 is muy “flatmate.  DN3 lives on the other side of the world.  So, DN1 picked us up and treated us to lunch.  Nice.

She took DN(2) to her appointment.  I finished going through the boxes on the floor. 

DN got home, took a nap.  Then all crashed.  She wanted to change the plans for tomorrow, and I had the nerve to object.  She got mad at me .. as usual.  Then I made the HUGE mistake of venting to DN1. 

Long story short, DN1 axewMWS r mw ro arop xomplININF IN WMila.  Rhwn ahw apwnr rhw ewar od rhw wcwninf ahur in hwe eoom.

I apwnr rhw ewar od rhw wcwninf qiahinf I Hs my homw NS MY HUAVns Vxk.

I nwELY POLIAHWS ODD  vorrlw od qinw .. vur nor sonw ywr.  I know, I’m not supposed to say anything, complain or vent or anything.  And if anyone dares to comment on my blog, DN2 will likely scream at me again.

I hope I have enough wine to last me the next 11 months. I just don’t want to be here.  I want my home back, mice and bugs and all.  I ant my husband back.  I want my *real* life back. 

Please, whoever bothers to read this, DO NOT call or email DN and fuss at her.  It does not help, just makes things worse. It’s all my fault you know.  I’m over emotional, over sensitive, over stupid, whatever.  I tried standing up for myself.  It just made things worse. 

I hope I have enough .. or can get enough .. wine to make it through 11 more months.  I will live in a cardboard box under a bridge before I continue to be treated like  this.  I know, it’s my own fault.  Sorry, I just don’t like to be yelled at and I *try* to be conciliatory (pretty good word for a whole bottle of wine) .. but it just doesn’t work.  I never know when I’m going to say the wrong thing.  I just cannot meekly accept orders to do this or that.  And I’m pretty sick of being told how good the “exercise=ze” is for me whenever she wants  to force me to do what she wants to do.  I’m to the point that I don’t care about stupid exercise!!

Bottle of wine is empty.  I guess it’s time to go to sleep.