A is for Ass, not Appreciation.

I wanted to post today about our fake marriage counseling to save a buck, but alas, I think I'll skip that and say a huge shout of "Kiss my muthafuckin' ass!"

I get it. He works 16 hour days. He likes to do this because then the overtime is huge and the paychecks are huge, blah blah blah, especially after being unemployed for a year. But ya know, not.my.fault. So I do what I can here, with four kids and five dogs, which includes vacuuming the hardwood floors daily, and making sure that not only his dinner is hot and delicious and varied each night, but also that I re-brush my hair and teeth before he gets here so it's great to come home.

He was so tired that on the way home, he called me to make sure he stayed awake. During that call, my mom called and since she currently has two of my four heathens, I told him I'd call right back, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay there. He said, "Hopefully I won't fall asleep and land in a ditch." Mom says they're coming back tomorrow, and I call The Man right back -- a total lapsed time of maybe 3 minutes max.

No answer.

Over the course of the next 15 minutes, I call repeatedly, leaving "You're worrying me! Answer the damn phone!" kind of messages, and then out my kitchen window, I see the big red monster truck coming up the road. I met him in our room and said, "You knew I was calling you back. Why didn't you answer so I didn't think you were in a g'damn ditch?!?"

He said, "The ringer was off."

Ooooooooooooooooh okay. Ass. I go back to the kitchen to finish dinner. Then I get snide remarks "said in jest" because guess what? Today when I went to pay a chunk of money down on the wedding rings, I flippin' upgraded from a 3/4 carat to a full carat. Snide comment away -- my diamond will be amazing regardless.

Then the lemon pepper chicken had too much lemon pepper on it.

Then he jumped me about "overfilling" the leftovers of last night in his lunch. Are you kidding me? I pack you a lunch the night before and you're going to bitch at me?? I said, "You know, I'm under the impression that when you become full, just stop eating. No one says you have to eat everything I put in there, but I never know which days you won't want much, or will want more."

In Boops world, this translates into: I don't give a shit how bad your day was, I will never pre-pack your lunch again. Ever.

And I'm a stubborn bitch. I really won't.

Then he went to shower and to bed. I sweat and cook for an hour, he eats for 5 minutes, complains about tonight's dinner, complains about his overpacked lunch, and then up and left.

But ya know, that's okay, because my Happy Place has this monster gorgeous diamond that shines bigger and brighter than the ass that is he.