10:33 a.m. - Tuesday, Jan. 26, 2010
Not feeling good.
I can never and will never be good enough. I've been packing his lunch like a good little girl for the past two weeks. I've been making dinner like an obedient wife should. I've been doing the dishes and the laundry. I've been handling all of the grocery shopping and recycling. I've quietly crept from the bed at night to sleep on a deflating air mattress so that he can snore in peace.
I tried to make french toast this morning for him . . .after I had already eaten. He turned up the heat and it burnt.
"How did this work before?"
"I was baking it before. But I thought this would be faster."
"Great. So try something new when I'm already late for work."
So I cleaned up the mess while he went to fill up the coffee maker.
Then he growled . . .literally . . ."Why do you ALWAYS leave the filter on?"
"Because I fill up my water bottle that way . . ."
Then I left the room. Now I'm hiding. I'm not the one that wakes up late for work. I'm not the one who doesn't pay my bills. I'm not the one complaining about how depressed and useless my life is . . .Not to him, anyway.
I feel like crying. I feel trapped. How can you yell at someone for trying to make you breakfast?
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