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2000-06-11 | 02:20:43

It would be one thing if Duff liked to mud for three or four hours a day on the weekends. But it's closer to the truth to say that, given a choice, Duff doesn't mud for three or four hours a day on the weekends. He is on when I get up in the morning and he is on when I go to bed at night.

This gives me time to stew and to think that seeing the back of Duff's head all day makes me feel like the most boring hausfrau on the planet. So then I get to nag and bitch and it doesn't feel terribly enlightened. How much better, I wonder, to live apart? I don't even care whether we break up. I just want to live somewhere else, where I don't have to look at the back of his head, listen to the clacking of the keyboard, and especially to hear him chuckling at something someone on the mud did or said, when he can't be bothered to listen to me. I have to repeat things over and over to him. My friends act as if they would love to spend the afternoon with me (except of course they all live too far away to visit), and he acts as if there is no greater boredom. When the mud is down for some reason, he's very attentive and sweet. If I were smarter, I would pay someone to hack the mud.

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