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Welcome To The Bitchery

Winter is a tough time in the Waffle house (get it?). Mr. Waffle has really bad SAD and I've developed it since we moved back from San Diego four years ago. We got a fair dusting of snow here and Mr. Is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. First he was all panicked about his work-study funding. Now I find out he hasn't been paying the full cable bill, and he says to me, and I shit you not, "WE CAN'T GO ON LIKE THIS!!" After I told him we'd pay what we're behind on and then I'll call customer service in the morning.
This is how he approaches problems: he waits until 11 or 12 at night, when I can do exactly fuckall about it, and then he starts to huff. After he's huffed enough to get my attention, at which point I'm already pissed because I know what's next, he presents said problem as if we need to go through bankruptcy again and then fling ourselves into a volcano because life is so terrible and things will never get any better.
I'm trying to be patient and understanding, and I'm trying to remain calm, but I don't think he gets that I'm now so riled up I'd like to smash our shitty dishes and drive off into the night. I love him. Of course I love him. But dammit, I have bad days too, and if he's so goddamned concerned about our welfare, he needs to take some ownership of it, too.
I'm off to take enough Nyquil to bring down an elephant. For fuck's sake....

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