ruined woman

You know when you call the school to tell them that your kid won't be there and that bossy computer voice tells you to leave your child's name, their homeroom teacher and the reason for their absence? As soon as that computer starts telling me what to do I start with the whole "go on, I dare you to tell me what to do. I DARE YOU."

And then I grow up a little bit and remember it isn't my main ambition in life to make everyone hate me, as much of a doable goal that might be to attain. Today I called the school and that bossy computer started to tell me what to do and I sucked it up. I left her name and her homeroom teacher's name and then I sweetly added "Amelia is home with me today." And after I hung up I added "and it's none of your business that we bought junk food and pop and are having a total party and that I am forcing her to skip school for no good reason other than I've completely neglected her for the past week because I have been slammed with homework myself and I missed her and since she's only in grade 2 I don't see that it matters much if she misses 4 hours of school."

I will add to this here blog, to lessen the blow of my atrocious parenting, that I had to take my truck into the shop, again, and the logistics of getting her to and from school seemed much less fun than the junk food and pop type fun we are having instead.

Not so graceful segue....

I brought to my own attention that my house is a pigsty and therefore, since I am home and all with no vehicle and nothing but time, that I should clean it. So that it is what I am doing.

Okay, no I'm not. I'm blogging. Which is sort of like cleaning. No? A cleaning of the mind? Still, no? Okay, I'm not cleaning.

I will be though. I promise. I have a meeting here in a couple of hours and it would behoove me to clean.

This brings me to my next item of business. The man. The man is on a 5 nights gone and 2 nights home routine and it is ruining me.

I am becoming a ruined woman. But not in the traditional sense. As it turns out, I sleep like the dead when he's gone. Like a log. Like a log that is dead. I sleep and sleep and sleep.

And I like it.

I don't have to deal with the weird, back sleeping snorting and grunting. I don't have to deal with the 27 point turns he does in the night just to roll over. The turns that are required to turn a Mac truck around in a very tiny parking lot. I don't have to deal with the touching and poking and just general you're-in-my-space kind of issues.

And I mean that in the least dirtiest way possible.

A couple of weeks ago he punched me in the head while I was sleeping. Did I tell you that? Well, he did.

I kind of like the sleep. Youknowwhatimean?

I mean, I miss him, I really do. I really really like my husband but this "alone in the bed" thing should not be scoffed at.

Do not scoff.

I am afraid now that when he returns home for good I WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN.

My concerns are legit, I dare say. Too legit to quit.

Anyway, menopause sucks. Thought you should know.

Happy weekend.