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2004-08-02 | 12:07 a.m.

I'm in that suck place again where I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. Then when I finally do get up, I'm dragging, dragging. I think the house is getting me down. It's pretty bad. Duff and I are not connecting. It seems like half the time I try to talk to him, he ends up shrieking at me, usually about money. I don't understand why we are so broke, so far behind on the bills. I ask him about it and within a minute he's shrieking hysterically. Today he yelled at me in front of all the soccer team parents because I had left the grapes on the other side of the field "and it's HALFTIME!!!" Then he glares at me. As if this were a genuine crisis. As if he doesn't know where all my stuff has been located for the past hour. He could've gone and gotten the grapes himself, except he has forgotten everything relating to me (aside from my shocking lapse). Also, he is the COACH and fetching grapes is a parent's job. A female parent's job.

He gets so wound up about these games, which is fine, but when he's wound up tight like that I can do nothing right. None of us can. Which makes me not want to go to the games, or stay in the house.

There is more, but I'm tired. I don't know why I always say that. There is always more.

Holy shit, somebody looked up "housewife" on Yahoo Search and ended up at my diary. Fucking hell.

Hey Shel, I think I'm a housewife.

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