Half Way Through

I took Friday off, so I have a three day weekend. I love those. For some reason, though, they never go as I imagine them. Let's take Friday. I hoped to get all my chores done so I'd have the weekend for lazing around. I managed to get a nice long walk in and get all the laundry done. But Ken needed me to come to his office to sign some papers for the home equity loan we're doing. I was only supposed to pop in to sign them and then I'd be excused. You need to know that never happens, so why should it happen this time. It took forever for him to get the papers together, then I was brought around to say "hello" to everyone. After an hour or so, it was done and then we had to go out to lunch (even though I was going to eat at home). By the time lunch was done, so was my afternoon. Bah.

Today I woke up at the crack of dawn and then forced myself up so I could do my walk. I walked for over an hour and a half. I get home and I'm exhausted for that and lack of sleep. Ken was just waking up and said he needed to make a short trip to the nursery, was I interested in going with him. Since I was exhausted, I wasn't in my right mind and I said I would only if I could shower first. The short trip to the nursery ended up being a trip to the vet to pick up food for Lucy, a trip to the nursery, a trip to Lowe's, another stop at Lowe's and an aborted trip to another nursery. My morning is now officially gone. I got home, climbed on the couch and fell asleep... until I hear someone screaming Ken's name. His boss showed up at the house and needed to borrow is swiper ID to get into work. She forgot her ID and needed something from her desk. So now I'm awake, I'm cranky (me cranky? Nooooooooo) and it's 4:30. Two days shot straight to hell. Oh, and today was supposed to be my day. Ken told me last night he was going in to work today to catch up. I asked him why he felt the need to tell me that when he knew damn well it wasn't going to happen. He frequently tells me he's going in to work over the weekend, so I prepare in my head what I'm going to do and it never happens. Okay, that's not true. Ninety percent of the time it never happens.

I don't know how he can live with me. I'm such a cranky, passive aggressive son of a bitch.