Good Intentions.....

Ugh. I had such good intentions for this blog. For my life, as well, I might add. However, I’m at the breaking point. There has not been much time that DH has been home that has not been accompanied by accommodating DH’s schedule (the carpooling). Before DH, I worked long, hard, and efficient during the week. Now that he’s back, we work long, hard, inefficient, and either he steals the car both days of the weekend to go in to work or I waste 3-5 hrs of my time driving him to, waiting for him to get done with, and picking him up from work. Feel sorry for me! My weekends are ruined! Either I get no days off, or I wallow in guilt about leaving DH to take the BART and still get no days off. I miss my once-in-a-blue-moon (which is next month, by the way) trips to LA. I miss early morning fishing. I miss running in my favorite state park. I actually miss living on an impossible monetary budget, compared to impossibly budgeting my time. I say, to DH, I will buy you a “new” car. I will get us a new place. Here are the leads, here are the addresses, here are the phone numbers, and here are the notes (I already called the phone numbers). I am met by resistance and chocolates on every front. He honestly thinks chocolates will make everything better. Since I never got chocolates before, I want to reward this chocolate-giving behavior with praise and treats. Seriously, though, he can’t surprise me with chocolates when we have only one car, and I can’t provide him with decent meals on even the most lavish of budgets when I can’t freaking get to a grocery store because he has the car all weekend. I’ve gained 5 lbs already from my lack of state-park-running. The kitchen is a disaster – even I won’t cook in it (and my standards are low, folks). I can’t work in my living room, because piles of laundry in front of my face gives me a nervous twitch. Not because piles of laundry are bad, mind you, but piles that have intruded into your living room and have encroached upon every available surface are clearly of demonic origin. I rant too much. I hope DH doesn’t read this. I hope he does and turns chocolate giving into a car-finding sport. I don’t even know what I hope anymore except that nice little house-elves that mend shoes, wash dishes, do laundry, and most of all repair cars visit us soon. We have lots of fresh milk in the fridge, help yourselves! (Oh, and btw, the image I wanted to post above is about the only image I’ve created with Excel lately. Unfortunately, I'm too exhausted (its 3AM here!!), and various programs are not cooperating, so you do not get to see said image. The Excel tutorial has been placed on hold almost indefinitely at this point. I hope you understand.)