Hot and Bothered

It is 95 degrees in the state of Kentucky. It is not a dry heat as they say in Arizona -- it is a muggy, sticky, icky, yucky hot heat. You ever seen the movie "In the Heat of the Night" well it's that kind of southern hot. It mades you crazy, irritable, and you just want to kill someone or something by knocking it in the noggin with an iron skillet.

Then there's the mosquitoes. They bite and suck the life right of you. Then oh, do they itch!

All you want to do is lie around like an old hounddog on the front porch. I'd rather have a foot of snow on the ground than this humidity.

Why do I tell you this? Because there are some good analogies in the weather and southern sterotypes that I mention and the way I'm feeling about the spouse today.

First of all, the prozac isn't doing its job today -- so I am blah, blah, blah --D***** is cutting teeth and J**** is like always on Mondays -- lying in the bed complaining of a headache. The house looks like a herd of swine has ran through the house. The heat ain't helping. The kids are restless and driving me nuts. We have six kittens and they are wild. I need a break.

Guess I'm just stressed -- I sum it all up this way -- my mom keeps pushing me to do this, do that and I keep having to pull J**** along. Guess I just want everyone to get off of my back and walk beside of me.

Later this evening -- Finally got young'ns to bed and am doing the wash and participating in my online al-anon chat.

I described the weather earlier, because I felt icky, yucky, and hot under the collar. As I listen to my al-anon chat I realize, I shouldn't be this way. But, sometimes he just makes me want to scream. You know what -- I've been feeling sorry for myself all weekend into today. Sometimes, that too is cathartic. But when he got home today, I was mean, I yelled, I whooped him with a pillow, I cried, I was manic. I shouldn't have acted that way and I am sorry that I did.

But, I also started by trying to have an adult conversation with him. He won't talk to me. He turns it around, "why you want to talk? did you do something wrong? " He has this thing that while he's in jail on the weekends, I'm out playing and having a good time, screwing all kinds of men or something. Yeah -- three kids 6,4, and 19 months. Hours of sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll - heh - more like Veggie Tales, chocolate milk, and the hokie pokie.

I actually missed him this weekend and wanted to share that with him and I wanted to let him know how much I missed him. But -- while eating I don't finish my burger -- I say, I am full -- he says "Yeah, I bet you're peter full." Where the hell did that come from? Then I wonder -- why did I miss him? He's such a redneck jerk.

Then after the kids go to bed, he's Don Juan all sweet and wonderful. Yeah - he's clean and sober but he's still rollercoaster UP and rollercoaster DOWN with me. He's driving me nuts. I know this is a whiny post - but that is where I am -- emotional today.