What'd you say, Boy?

I just love it when I have long days. I get up between 5:20 AM and 5:45 AM on Thursdays so that I can catch two busses in order to be at work by 8 AM. I don't complain about the trip. It gives me time to myself.

I don't complain when the connecting bus to my express shuttle shows up about 10 minutes late, to be just in time for rush hour traffic causing me to miss the shuttle. I don't complain when the fucking bus driver is surly when I ask if she thinks she'll catch up to the shuttle. I don't complain when I have to take the bus back into the city to catch a train from one end to the other. It gives me even more time to myself, even if it does make me late for class.

But a woman has got to draw the line somewhere.

M works the swing shift, which means that the kiddles have to cook sometimes. Tonight was one of those nights. So I get home, throw some refried beans and hot sauce on my cheese quesadilla. I head to the living room to relax in front of the tube while I eat. I shoo the Boy out of my usual spot on the right side of the couch.

Why do i gotta move?
Cuz I always sit there.
But why do i gotta move. I'm sittin' here.
Just, come on, will ya move over please. You know i always sit there.
Fine. which is just the same as if a female says Fine. It's NOT Fine.

Just as i'm about to take a bite of my dinner...

You're welcome.
What'd you say? Did you just say you're welcome? I should have cracked my neck, I whipped my head around so fast.
It's just that i cooked dinner all by myself, and didnt burn the house down. it would be nice to get a thank you.
Oh, and what about all the times that I cook dinner? And go shopping? And clean up after you? I don't hear a rousing chorus of 'thank you' when I do all that shit.
THANK YOU CUZ NOW I'M NOT FUCKING HUNGRY.

Not only was it wrong of me to think that cooking dinner ONE NIGHT during the week was no big deal, how dare I sit down to eat it without telling the Boy "Thank you for this wonderous fucking meal of a flimsy fucking cheese quesadilla that required absolutely no fucking thought whatsoever to fucking cook." So I took his dinner back to the kitchen, wrapped it up for M and made myself grilled cheese.

They sure are lucky I take happy pills.