“It’s all right for a woman to be, above all, human. I am a woman first of all” ~Anais Nin

Some days I feel like I’m not allowed to be a human, much less a woman. I’m not allowed to be bitchy, crabby, snappish – or I pay for it with triple what I dished out.

And – childish as it may sound – it’s not FAIR.

I am stuck trying to make the best of a situation that NONE of us would have chosen under ideal circumstances. I am also stuck doing most of the work to rectify that situation. And there is absolutely NO way I am going to handle this without ever getting crabby or snapping out.

*sigh*

It’s just not fair.

Taylor is bipolar and tends to snap the fuck out on a fairly regular basis. I generally don’t make a big deal out of it. I let him bitch and go on about my business until his mood changes. Half the time he doesn’t even realize he’s taking my head off – and it’s not worth it for me to point it out cuz then we just fight. And I know he’s not really mad at me, not meaning to be evil. He’s just in a mood.

And yet I rarely get that same consideration. If I’m bitchy – even if I have REASON to be – I’m supposed to always be able to control it? What’s THAT all about? Jesus – No one can control their moods/reactions all the time.

MEN!

All my god damned life I’ve had to deal with the fact that, because I rarely fuck up, when I do it’s this federal fucking case. Because I hardly ever make screw up I’m not ever allowed to? Who’s fucking perfect?

All I can do is try.
But, by god, I’m human.
And a tender, soft, easily hurt human woman at that.

Sometimes, when we’re bitchy, all we really need is for someone to give us a damned hug, realize there is something wrong, give us a bit of tenderness to balance the shit we’ve been dealing with all day – instead of taking it all personal and having a hissy fit cuz we’re a little crabby and – god save us, men shouldn’t have to deal with a woman who is ever crabby. *insert eyeroll here*

I’ve been busy today.
I got most of the house cleaned up – not an easy task with three adults and a preteen in a small two bedroom apartment, along with all their stuff.
I got most of the laundry done.
I got dinner made.
I spent half the day looking in the paper for houses, wrote them all down, got directions, made up a list of which ones to go see to make sure they were suitable before calling and arranging a showing.
And I got my ass chewed for being a little crabby when my plans/reasons were questioned.

By god, if I’m the only one who’s going to work at FINDING us a home then we’re going to go about finding that home in my fucking way!

Stupid bitching about wasted gas.
Try taking yer foot out of the carburetor and we’d get better mileage!
Like going fifteen miles was THAT big a deal.
Hmmph.

MEN!

I think this situation is going to get a lot worse before we adjust.
And it’s gonna royally suck.