A "Fail" kind of weekend, spilled milk, and The Swinger

Saturday after work, I braved Walmart. The youngest needed socks and I was hoping for something to entertain me in my lonely spinsterhood. Can I still be a spinster if I've had children or do I have to be childless also?

After navigating through the other shoppers (Relax - there was zero bloodshed) I looked at a wall of books. Every one them of the Twighlight ilk, which wasn't anything I was in the mood for. So I picked the one that appeared to be different - Beautiful Bastard. If you've heard of it, you're probably already snickering right?

Because doesn't every just dumped woman want to read erotica?

Fine, I'll watch the movie I bought. Except the universal remote to work the DVD player is batteryless. I can't even blame the kids because I'm the one who stole them to use in the TV remote. Since I've got absolutely nothing to coax the DVD player past the menu screen into play, no movie either.

I found a book to read - other than Beautiful Bastard which is residing under my bed where it landed after sliding down the wall - and went to bed.

Value Village here we come

Sunday I stopped at Value Village on my way for Groceries - they've always got a lot of used books.

I also found this mirror and thinking it would look pretty neat painted black, I bought it. Then groceries, a stop at the Home Hardware for some black spray paint and I'm home.

The day is sunny, not warm but not frigid so I've got no excuses to NOT cut the lawn.

Except the mothereffing lawnmower would not start. My just bought last year, second pull guaranteed lawnmower. So I decided to spray paint my mirror and discovered I kind of suck at spray painting.

This is when I chose to go in the house and start reading the Dean Koontz novel I had also bought.

This is the "Woe is me, my boyfriend dumped me" part of the post. 

I won't hold it against you if you skip past this part.

I don't know why, but evenings are not too bad. I'm sad, but not "lose it" sad. Mornings (and by morning I mean anytime before 3 pm) are brutal. Which I guess is just more proof that I'm not naturally a morning person. This morning it seemed like I was going to be closer to okay. Then I drove to work and saw his truck was home.

Did I forget to mention that part? Yeah, we live within walking distance of each other and will regularly need to drive past each others houses on our daily routines.

My emo Brain: Why is he home? Did something bad happen?

My logical Brain: He did mention something about having to take a night shift for a guy on vacation.

My emo Brain: Well how is he going to pick up his kids on Friday if he's on afternoons.

This is where my logical brain gave my emo brain a slap across the cheek

My logical Brain: Not. Your. Fucking. Problem.

Then, while at work someone asked me if I had plans for vacation. Which I did - two weekends ago. In fact The Polish Guy and I were even discussing when we would take our vacation. Then Wednesday he dropped off all of my stuff.

I'm kind of guessing that means he's not planning on taking us with him this year.

I've written those hurtful words "I've been dumped" but I up until this morning I had not been able to say them. I just couldn't do it without losing my composure.

I managed to get the words past the lump in my throat, and told her why I had no vacation plans at the moment. I did not cry. I even held it together through the meaningless platitudes that people make when they're sad that you're sad.

Not even an hour later I flipped the bitch switch over something trivial. Then I had to apologize for being an asshole, but at least I didn't snot and slobber all over an employee's shoulder.

That would be unprofessional.

Cockroaches and spilled milk

Another trigger for me has been seeing the one lady at work and remembering her little homily from Barbados of "There be a cockroach in your milk." Apparently, this is what they say when a woman is having a sneezing fit.

Why do I even worry about this? It's not as if I have any reason to believe he was two timing me.

Besides, should it even matter at this point if "some other woman be doin' yer man"? Another woman is not going to make him any more not attracted to me. It's like worrying about getting more pregnant if you have sex while pregnant. Obviously he's "just not that into me", so why even worry about it? Why look for answers in the inexplicable? Why care so damn much over someone who obviously no longer cares for me?

It's like crying over spilled milk.

The Swinger is back at My Half Assed Life

The Swinger's got some big weekend plans. Whenever I felt weepy, I would picture him in ridiculous role playing costumes. Emphasis on ridiculous so as not to trigger my gag reflex. Alternately, I would wait until I caught the other Shipper/Receiver's eye and make like I had the guy on a leash and collar with a whip in my hand.

Whicha!

It got me through the day.