The Unnamed Post

unnamed post, tears

You spend too much time on the computer.
Because I’m trying to earn a living to supplement your income doing what *I* know how to do best.

As far as I know, it takes MONEY not TIME to build a business up. What kind of business can you possibly do on the computer? When you do make a little bit of money, you spend it right up.
Internet businesses are completely different than a brick and mortar business. It is something you will never understand, because you know nothing about how the internet works or about building a reputation with other bloggers and companies, and I don’t have the time or the inclination to sit here and explain it to you because it still won’t make any sense to you. As for the little bit of money that I do make, what do I spend it on? Stuff for you, stuff for the children, stuff for the house. I haven’t had new undergarments in over three years and what I do have left is falling apart. Yeah, I’m just out spending money and living high on the hog mister.

The house is filthy, you never clean anything.
That is because you won’t allow me to use furniture polish (it affects your breathing) and I cannot use Lysol or Fantastic because it cuts your breathe. I have been asking you for OVER A YEAR to get me a mop. Yet I’m still on my hands and knees scrubbing spots off the floors as best I can. I’m sorry its my fault you think your allergic to everything.

You never pay attention to anything going on in this house.
I know EVERYTHING that goes on in this house – I just don’t freak out over every little altercation or show of an attitude like you do. I know more about what goes on and what my children are doing then you EVER will.

If you think you’re doing the dishes and fixing our meals and doing things for me is a ‘trade’ for you to sit around all day while I’m busting my ass you’re wrong.
Oh, I am so sorry. I’m not your momma and it is not my JOB to pick up after you and the boys, it is not my JOB to clean up the piss around the toilet because y’all can’t aim straight, it is not my JOB to be your waitress or your secretary from the time you open your eyes till you close them again. I am NOT your momma and have nothing better to do than cook and clean all day. I have hopes, dreams, aspirations, wants and needs. I’m not an effing robot that you can program, that has no feelings, that can be IGNORED until YOU NEED SOMETHING. You don’t seem to have a problem with my “sitting around all day” when you need something and I’m the one with the money and not you.

You don’t treat the dog right.
I didn’t want an effing dog. She was supposed to be the kids’ dog. THEY were supposed to walk her. THEY were supposed to play with her. THEY were supposed to clean up her shit. Instead, nobody plays with her but you. Nobody walks her but me. She won’t even go outside with any of you. So I’m stuck with another “person” to fetch and clean up after.

There is a film of smoke on everything around your computer. It’s disgusting.
I know it is, but I cannot use chemicals to clean anything. If you take a moment and move the picture on the wall where YOU sit and smoke, you will see THE. EXACT. SAME. THING.

I cried an ocean tonight, and I’ll be sleeping on the couch indefinitely.

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