I have thought of a long blog entry every day this week, but unfortunately they always turn into rants about DH, no matter what subject I started with. There are a lot of things I need to get off my chest, though, so I will have to just start writing. I can't really call up somebody and tell them all these things; who would be interested anyway? And I can't afford marriage counselling, and he refuses to go there with me anyway. He won't even agree to go visit a friend who is a psychologist because he doesn't want to hear that anything he chooses to do might be wrong. Like having his girlfriend (who he doesn't even have the sensitivity to keep a secret, but instead goes with openly and TELLS me where they go and what they do(no sex, thank goodness)), and like complaining that I don't talk to him anymore, but jumps all over me for absolutely any comment I make, or like telling me I can't give HIS dog any training because he doesn't want me ruining him, then deciding that I need to put MY dog to sleep because of her health issues. See, it all gets out of hand very quickly.
Don't forget, I am only allowed to use the computer when he isn't here, and actually I can't spend more than a half hour in my studio sewing either, when he's here, and I have to give him more than half of my paycheck to run this place, but somehow I have to come up with the money for extra groceries, and vet bills, and etc, etc, but heaven forbid I should work on anything that can make me some money when he's here. He went ballistic last week because I drove down to the mailbox to mail out a package containing a felted bag that I sold on Etsy. I drive too much according to him, while he drives to North Phoenix to visit his girlfriend 3 or 4 days a week.
I have to take RObin to the vet to have her hips x-rayed now, and I'll have to pay with my secret credit card, because I am forbidden to use his cards, and I have to give him the money from my paycheck that I could pay it with, and I have orders from him to take her to be x-rayed NOW. I doubt that he cares if she is in pain; he just wants a vet quote to surgery on her to use for ammunition when he rants about putting her down. There I go bawling again; I'd better close. I will write how the vet visit goes.