I'm at home bored and for some reason think that having my husband home will ease the boredom somehow. It doesn't. Maybe I'm anxious for his arrival for some help with the kid. No, that's probably not it either, since simply asking for him to make a bottle gets him a little cranky. And if the kiddo is crying, it's ME that has to go figure out why. Excuses are either: "I didn't hear him" or a shouting "You're okay" without even checking on him. Whatever. I mean, even as I write this, the baby is crying. Of course, the dishwasher is running, the husband is playing video games and watching YouTube. What am I doing? Blogging. Listening to the baby cry.
At least he started supper while I was out running.
Poison.
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