Well shit…my just now 2 yr old fridge seems to have gone out. The fridge part isn’t cooling at all. Steve called the 800 number and they offered us an extended waranty for $275 or they will come fix it for a $75 service call plus parts and the parts can run as much as $400. This when we are trying to come up with $377 to make a house payment. I swear things just never ease up.
I talked to the Dr about my nasties that Steve keeps complaining about, and she felt he was objecting to my regaining my voice which is what I thought…he doesn’t like me having opinions and I’ve been quiet for a long, long, time. We cut the muscle relaxer in half to see if that won’t help the sleepies I fight in the mornings and afternoons. It seems to. I find myself thinking things like ‘shave, cut your fucking hair, get away from me.’ I am not wanting sex when he hasn’t showered for me and it’s 4 freaking a.m. Maybe I am a bitch. I can’t suggest anything without pissing him off. I don’t feel the same as I did back when I was in my 40’s – women hit their sexual peak right before menopause – and I’m on the down side. It is what it is. When I wanted it, he wasn’t interested and left me to cry more nights than not. Now that I don’t, he’s all offended. It’s just show. I don’t feel loved. Just a hug or tender word would go so far – instead it’s like a freaking competition as to who hurts worse and who’s more capable. It annoys the hell out of me to have everything I say applied as if I’m attacking him. I barely let myself speak to avoid the fight. Blah. I had made a decision that if he doesn’t pull together the payments and save the house – GET A JOB – I was going to VA. That’s out now, so I’ll just keep dealing with the bed I made. I won’t be the first woman to carry on. We’ll be doing our best to stay here until Geoffrey graduates then help him get into college. Steve talks like we’ll stay together, sell the house and move to NC. I guess that’s fine.
I’m knitting as always. I have a couple things to add to my Etsy Store, and a few to donate. It’s hard to know what to do when everything’s made from stash. Maybe toys will be popular.
Anyway…it’s 9:30am and Steve’s just gone back to bed. I guess he doen’t plan on working much today. He’s got bronchitis to be fair, but if he’s going, it should be early, not late. Here I go again, picking…picking, picking. It’s all I do these days.
Green Jean Granny 
Its hard to feel love when both of you are depressed. That was the hardest thing for us when kent was laid off. You can still come to va if need be, doors always open.
I know, but what can I offer you besides more headache? The disability may be State specific, no car, no job, a fucking body that doesn’t cooperate most days. Kent doesn’t need that on his shoulders. Right after I wrote my blog, Steve came downstairs complaining how he didn’t get any sleep at all worrying about the refrigerator. He’s been heaving and hoeing and making a miserable mess in the kitchen and all over the back yard so I know how put out he is by the situation. I wish I cared more. I just want him to clean the nasty old thing before he puts our food in it. I’ll not say a word. Goddess knows the peace is more important than our food in the land of nothing – nada – no pennies even…I should cut my tongue out.
It kills me that you are suffering as a family and he seems to put it on you as if you can fix it. Just remember i am always here for you.
I know sweetie. I love you.