I woke up angry today. I know I should write on good days but those days seem to be fewer and farther between so I'ld rather spend my energy doing stuff. So if you're tired of listening to me complain, stop reading now. I'm angry because: John is working this weekend, the fourth weekend in a row and he is working next weekend. He asked me when the folk festival is because Great Big Sea is coming and he knows how much I like them. I don't know but it doesn't matter because he'll be working every weekend for as far ahead as I can tell. He says he's going to take some time off but that doesn't matter much either. He's been doing alot of the cooking but we still have to go through the infuriating ritual of "what do you want for dinner?" "I don't know what do you feel like having?" It's no frickin' wonder I have no appetite except for something I can eat directly out of the package. And that's it. I'm so tired of living alone most of the time. I mean if I lived alone for real it would be one thing but despite feeling alone so much of the time, I still have to pick up and clean up after three other people. I'm sure they would tell you that they don't create work for me and I'm also sure they believe that to be true but who makes sure there are clean towels, dish clothes, who washes the dishes, makes sure the dishwasher gets put on, the one that sweeps and vacuums dog hair, mops up the spills, cleans up footprints (people and dog), fixes the covers on the furniture so it doesn't look so messy, who washes those couch covers when Max covers them in mud, changes the sheets on the bed (if it were up to John I'm sure the sheets would never get changed), who goes through the fliers every week to make a list of what's on sale only to throw it away and start again the next week when the fliers come. D gives me a hard time about have and leaving stuff out that I'm working on because it creates clutter and she's right it does, it creates a lot of clutter but that stuff is all I have. I have no job, no friends, no car, no money. I have tried to get the paper work in order and leave it to John but it just stacks up and stacks up and stacks up. I have begun to wonder if my discomfort with spending time in the spare room comes from my old friend - guilt - that I'm not even looking at or thinking about the things I should be doing. But no, I think it has more to do with the crappy t.v. which replaced the broken one that John was going to fix and yet still sits in the hallway. As well as the fact that my beloved dvr is attached to the downstairs t.v. so in the spare room I have to watch live t.v. I'm angry because I fucked up on our income taxes and it cost us almost $300 because filing an amendment apparently requires a little more paper work which we no longer have. I'm angry because Derek seems to think he can come home at whatever time he feels like without a single concern as to whether I might be worried. I'm angry because I feel stifled, stale, stuck, flat (mentally), round (physically), undecided, and worst of all I have no one to blame for any of this but me. Except that John works way too many hours and refuses to ask for a raise at his second job. I would love to find one of those retreat places (that I could afford of course) where no one expects you to make polite small talk, somewhere where you can just be left alone with your thoughts for a couple of days, where the meals are made and that's what you eat, no decisions, no cooking, no cleaning, no questions, just a bed, food and pen and paper. I don't know if such a place exists. I imagine that most of them include yoga, meditation and vegetarian food; meditation being the only one I would really want included. I feel kind of disloyal, almost unfaithful because I know John would go through hell and highwater to make things better for me but he can't. It's times like this when I think the lot of them would be better off without me. They would quickly learn what I do and to do it themselves, one less mouth to feed, much money saved on meds, much money saved on art/craft supplies, money to be made selling all the crap I've accumulated, much worry and anxiety alleviated because no one would have to worry about me, no more promises made to me out of obligation or guilt only to be broken, no more resolutions to change for me that last only a few days or a week. Goddammit I'm miserable, I have got to be miserable to live with.