Yes, I’m in a bad mood
Trying to get some work done, and they are replacing some of the pipes in my apartment building. Pipes that are apparently very close to my unit. So, it’s been BANG BANG BANG, POUND POUND POUND, THUD THUD CRASH BANG for hours. This is not working wonders for my concentration, or for my temper.
So take a break, Erica. Go to the gym and work off the aggravation. Can’t. I tweaked my back and it hurts. No gym for me. I know better than to exercise when my back is out.
Steve left early this morning for his vacation. Haven’t heard from him since he called to cancel this week, last Sunday, and, despite his promises to write, to text, to send pictures, I can pretty much bet that I won’t hear from him again until after he comes home sometime next week. I know he doesn’t mean it. I know it’s not personal; it’s just what he does. He’s scattered and he forgets, especially when he’s all excited about a trip. Still sucks, though. It doesn’t take much to get me feeling forgotten, even though I know I’m not. Bleah.
I need a spanking like crazy. Sometimes, I really do wish I had more local top friends, ones who could step in when Steve isn’t available. Then again, I couldn’t play now anyway. Because, you know, my back hurts.
John is going back to work next Tuesday. I wish he were taking another couple of weeks off. He’s just starting to get his energy back, doing some odd jobs and projects around his house, and I wish he had a little more time to build up and be fully ready. But it’s been nine weeks. His friend and co-worker has been calling him nearly every day, regaling him with work stories (and no, they’re not fun, feel-good stories), which annoys the hell out of me. Why do people do that? What, is John supposed to feel guilty or something? He says he doesn’t mind, that in a way, it gets him prepared for what he’s coming back to. Meh. I didn’t want him thinking about work.
Just read online today that Maggie Gyllenhaal (you know, from Secretary), who is now 37, was turned down for a role playing the love interest of a 55-year-old man, because she’s “too old.” Thirty-seven is too old for a fifty-five-year-old?? UGH! I hate our ageist society. Just effing hate it. On FetLife, a woman wrote that her friends are making age jokes because it’s her 30th birthday. Sometimes, I want to slap people. Repeatedly.
Ugh. This day can kiss my ass.