Last night, before work, Jon and I had a fight. Over the cat and the door and Sean. I think the tensions of worrying about work and things just boiled over. Things were said. Doors were slammed. And people were slammed. (We got to the front door of the house at the same time and bashed into each other which knocked me down). THIS is the very reason I stopped riding to work with him. Because at any given moment things deteriorate so rapidly that I end up sobbing by the time we get to work. I had to walk around the parking lot and get myself under control before I could even come in the door of work.
It was the same litany: I am a bitch. His life sucks. He's under so much pressure and I just don't understand or care. Which is bull. As I said in a previous entry: EVERYTHING HE DOES that affects work at least, affects us. Therefore I care. All the time. I live in terror of him getting fired...all the time. I can't sleep right, all the time, for worrying. Sigh. Life's a bitch and then you marry one (or are a married one) and then you die.