I’m on strike this morning. I don’t know how long this strike will last, but the man I married has gone too far, yet again.
According to him, yet again, I am wasting all of the money I get in. According to him, I buy nothing but crap. Nothing, but crap. The reason for this? The camping and sewing equipment are nothing but crap. So is the knitting, the crochet, my spinning wheel. It’s all crap. My art supplies are crap.
Yet, I do all of the shopping. Every bit of food, every bit of household goods, every item was picked out by me. Everything he wears, I bought.
To top it off? The house is filled to the gills with VCR tapes and such that haven’t been used in 10 years. We can’t recycle any cans or bottles, those have to be ‘saved’, yet everything I bought and have ever bought is crap. Everything I own, according to him, is crap.
Before I go into a screaming fit. I’m done. It’s that simple. I’m done. Who bought and paid for his cell phone and tablet? I did. Who pays the MRC on his streaming services? I do. Who bought the wheelchair and paid for it? I did. I’m so freaking done.
From now on, he can schlepp his happy arse to the stores. He can get exposed to whatever the hell. He can order everything. I am done.
I can’t afford to move out, but I am going to look into a storage unit. The CRAP is going into storage. Screw this, I am so done.
If ya’all don’t hear from me in awhile, check on me please. It means that I’ve been drowned in a pile of cans and bottles that he refuses to get rid of.
Hugs, huge ones my friends. Once I come down from this high horse, I need to think more clearly. -L