Okay I am sick of this now

Sick of it.

It snowed from 8.30am yesterday morning until 11pm and then it started again at 5am.

Himself had to go to work at midnight and he didn't get back until 11.10am, at which point I just handed over the frying pan with his breakfast in it because I had to go out.

Now it is 1.17pm and I am back, making my breakfast quietly because he is asleep.

And this is Himself's weekend off.

We have been doing this since November.

We have to do this; we have to try to get some sleep even though one of us is always getting up, or going to bed, or getting dressed, or getting a phone call from work, or trying to have a life with the sound muted; we have to drive up and down the province for work, for the kids, in snow and rain and sleet and hail and blowing snow and wind and more frigging sleet; we have to deal with wives and their lawyers and our lawyers and landlords and neighbours who don't work so they run around the apartment making noise all night, and supervisors who don't see why they should ask the person who's turn it is to plough snow to do it, and people who want to know when they're getting their Internet, and boilers and shitty equipment and twenty four hour shifts in the middle of bumfuck Nova Scotia, and we have to do the shopping and the laundry and the bill paying and the entertaining and all the things that people have to do all the time...

And we have to do it all with a friggin' foot of snow on the ground every three days.

I am FUCKING SICK OF THIS.

So now I will eat my breakfast and go out and shovel snow off the steps, and the yard, and the car and the path to the laundry and then I will do the shopping and the laundry and the housework with the sound muted and hopefully, at some point Himself will wake up.

Of course, I'll be tired then.

Bah!

No wonder I made no sense last night.