You know what gets me?

Not being able to say, "Life can really suck!" without following it up with some tripe like "but I have to count my blessings". Ugh. That pisses me off.

Like tonight. I get home, fill the trough. The horses and cows are covered in sweat but they're too stupid to let me get near them with a stream of cool water from the hose. The humidity outside is unbearable. I come inside with one goal: clean up this filthy house. No matter that someone cleans it for me every Friday, within a day or two it's not only messy but crusty. Spilled milk, handfuls of grass trailing across the floor, and enough legos to build a small automobile. I've spent the last hour and a half just picking up.

In the background, Mark is on an emotional tear. He accidentally pooped his pants--the first time in months--and even though we were totally cool with it he decided that it was his excuse to have PMS for the remainder of the night. And, therefore, I get to have PMS for the rest of the night, even though I'm nowhere close to it.

There are certainly times when I wish I could come home to a clean, empty, quiet home. This is one of those nights. I'm overworked, underpaid, overweight, deep in debt, and I need more time to read. To hell with blessings.