I can't afford any luxuries right now but I will give myself one that is free: the luxury of venting.
The man I married is driving me to distraction. (It would be drink but I can't afford that either).
He doesn't understand that money doesn't grow on trees, that the one we have out the back is a boring old peach tree and that once you spend that paper stuff that comes out of the ATM, it's gone. Oh, he says, can I have a 20, give me a 50 will you...and he can never seem to work out where he's spent it. Today I closed my purse. This was as well received as Hanson's re-entry to parliament.
I look after our budget which is just allocating money for groceries, paying bills and setting money aside for other expenses. He looks over my shoulder and says to me the other day oh is that our savings? And I'm like no, that's our fortnightly expenditure...and was peeved because we didn't have thousands in the bank!
And then his pathetic dirtbag of a brother, stealing from his father because he's an ice head now and DH is busy propping his Dad up financially and I'm like report the prick to the Police for heaven's sake so of course I'm the biggest bi.tch since Dynasty last aired.
So then he starts dragging up subjects that have absolutely nothing to do with the issue at hand (I call it dirty fighting) and I'm like okay, go for a drive, I'm not listening to this crap. So he storms out and sends me text messages - justifying himself of course.
He's staying the night over at his Dad's, boohoo I says to him. Lucky our kids have a parent that doesn't walk out any time they have a tanty. And his dad's deaf in one ear so he can afford to listen to him whinge about having no money.
I wouldn't mind it if he could dance as dirty as he fights. But he's as agile as a five legged chicken on the p.iss and, quite frankly, this ten year old behaviour is as grating on me as listening to the cat strains coming from the tv (The Voice is on).
Is this a phase with men? Or am I stuck with this sh.it forever?