It started with a phone call from Chebbar after his job interview. He started out with a surprise! invitation of sorts for our already full-to-the-brim Sunday (in case you hadn't sussed it out yet, I'm an anal-retentive control freak who likes schedules and routines and order *eye roll*). He's going to be busy tonight and tomorrow helping my step-dad; we have a birthday dinner tomorrow night; and we were supposed to do grocery shopping and then go out of town to visit his family on Sunday: now he wants to spend Sunday night with the boys?!? Nice! I was still trying to wrap my (sometimes slow to catch up) brain around that one when he started telling me about the job interview. It went well, and we discussed some things, but the conversation in general left me feeling annoyed. As the day went on, I was getting increasingly teeth-gnashy, to the point that I had worked myself into a lather by quitting time.
On the drive home (with the assistance of a much-needed Momma-calm-me-down phone call), I realized that I was being ridiculous. First and foremost, hello selfish asshole. He's busy tonight and tomorrow because he's helping YOUR step-dad. Granted, you had nothing to do with this arrangement, but still. YOUR FAMILY. All of Sunday's activities could be fit in, and if that meant taking two cars so I can come home if it starts getting late, no biggie! Besides, when was the last time he had a Risk-playing geek-fest night with the boys? March? Suck it up, Princess. As far as the job thing, we're fine and we're going to BE fine. Stop. Borrowing. Trouble. Dammit.
I got all my Princess Pissypants crap out before I got home, which was a huge relief in itself. Of course, when I realized that this was hormone-drive (*cough*monthly visitor arrives next week*cough*), I was even more relieved. Just glad it didn't last longer than one day. I hate the irrational bullshit.
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