Noisy people on the train. Looks like there's at least one small child in the next carriage, so there's not much point going to the effort of moving. So much for a nice, relaxing trip with my nose in a book-- oh wait!
The worst offenders just got off a few stops before me! Though now morons behind me seem to be filling the gap. Ugh. I should really get a more portable cord for my headphones already.
Heh, try living with one... The front-and-center widescreen TV in our 24m
2 one-room apartment is blasting either the Jenna and Julien podcast or the H3 podcast, while she's sewing some rag on the sewing machine,
while she's babbling about some random nothing at me and getting irritated because I'm not listening enough to her, when I'm just trying to play a god damn game for once that day, because I can't start anything that might last over the period when she gets home, since any distraction from her glorious re-entry into the apartment is sacrilege that I will
not hear the end of and that will be tallied against me for days to come in random infantile outbursts of pent-up frustration with how I'm not standing around giving her kisses all day.Fucking
fuck this place.
And no, I don't get to bring this up with her. Any indication that I'm less-than-exuberant with anything in our relationship is tantamount to a physical slap in the face and will send her crying into the bathroom for an hour before she returns and lets me hear about how I never clean up around here, how I don't pull my weight financially (despite handing her the money to pay for 70% of the expenses several months running now), how I don't support her enough (of course I'm not fucking over-the-moon excited about your newfound lifelong passion for being a seamstress, it's your 5th hobby in 3 months for chrissakes, that you've yet again shat expensive space-consuming accessories for all over the apartment that will
never be used because this one is going to hold for about as long as any and every one of the others), and how I "never talk calmly about things before bursting out in aggression" despite it being made perfectly clear that I'm
not allowed to do that without suffering the painful consequences of her sulking like a goddamn child for days afterwards.
Oh, yeah, and my career guidance counselor says I need to write up a plan to structure my days better and get me performing more activities. Just writing the list feels overwhelming, the idea of actually
doing any more activities sounds outright insurmountable. I can just about go to an appointment and then
maybe swing by the grocery store on the way back, if it's been a decent day and I've slept marginally well. You want me to take a shower, spend some time doing housework and go for a walk on the same day as well? Good fucking luck with that one, matey.