Seriously ... Don't Call Me Again!!!

Me: “Hello.”

Him: “What’s wrong? You sound kind of crazy.

Me: (In my head) Hell yhea, I ‘m kind of crazy … because you’re sacked out at the f’ing Ritz Carlton after a fancy-schmancy dinner and the first of many days of golf and I’m stuck here with the kids eating quickie-mart pizza and watching Smokey and The Bandit. It’s been two, long, single-mother, no-school days, not to mention that they are out of school AGAIN tomorrow for “King Arthur Day” (this particular King Arthur may be more well known to you as Dr. MLK, Jr.).

Me: “Oh no, not crazy, just busy cleaning up.”

Me: (In my head) Nohhhhttttttttttttttt!!! You know that I loaaaathe you, right???

Him: “Been a good day?”

Me: “Yhea, pretty good. I’m tired.”

Me: (In my head) F. No … it hasn’t been a good day. How many damn times can you possibly ask me that…today??? Jesus H. Christ … please don’t call me again today, or I swear to God, I am going to kill you. And I really will kill you. I'm not EVEN joking. Kill you. Dead.

Me: “You have a good day?”

Him: “Yhea.”

(((Enter very noisy, fighting children)))

Me: “Hey, gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

Me: (In my head) I’ll call you later… my big, fat ass I will … I’m not calling you later. Hell will freeze over, before I call you back. Have fun, jackass. I’ll be here raising your children and cleaning your house while you live it up with your corporate pals. L.A.T.E.R!!!

Click.

Me: (In my head) I hope nothing happens to him out there ... I bet this is being recorded by the Feds. What the hell ... prison would be like vacation compared to this!!!

OK ~ this is slightly exaggerated. Clearly I don't have nearly enough time
to do all that thinking and even if I did, it probably wouldn't be THAT bad ...
maybe. But, really, who among us (with kids) hasn't ever felt like that???

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When my husband is out of town, our phone conversations are much like this old email forward:
What Women Say and What they Mean

Yes (No)

No (No)

Maybe (N0)

It's your decision. (The correct decision should be obvious by now.)

Do what you want. (You'll pay for this later.)

I'm sorry. (You'll be sorry.)

Sure . . . go ahead. (I don't want you to.)

I'm not upset. (Of course I'm upset, you moron.)

This kitchen is so inconvenient. (I want a new house)

I want new curtains. (and carpeting, furniture, wallpaper . . .)

I heard a noise. (I figured you were almost asleep.)

Do you love me? (I'm going to ask for something expensive.)

I don't want to talk about it. (Go away, I'm still building up evidence against you.)

I need time to think things over. (I don't want to be around when you realize I'm leaving you.)

I'm the one who's to blame. (I should never have got involved with you in the first place.)

I miss you. (I haven't found anyone else yet.)

I'm fine . . . really. (If I die, it'll be your fault.)

There'll never be anyone else like you. (I will never make the same horrific mistake again.)

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God knows I really do love that boy, but now, in one of many acts of passive aggressive treachery to be committed in the next forty-eight hours, I must go and mismatch all of his socks.

Whoever said that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" probably lived with me in another life. ;)