Well, Valentine’s Day was both a successful break and a
total bust. I haven’t been out to kill in several weeks now and I could feel
the anxiety coming on. I’ve gotten quite good at curbing my natural violent
urges but that doesn’t mean I can just stop cold turkey for such a long period
of time. I was getting antsy and James could see that.
How he saw it is beyond me – considering he’s barely home
these days – but I’m not complaining. I’m just curious. I know that he’s
working these extra hours to keep his family safe and work towards his
promotion but my god, I have gone to bed without him so many times this month,
I’ve forgotten what it’s like to sleep next to him. He’s got a blanket and
pillow set up near the living room couch so he “doesn’t have to disturb me”.
It’s frustrating.
Regardless of my feelings, James noticed that I was getting
claustrophobic and offered me a very thoughtful Valentine’s gift: he babysat
Heather while I went out to kill. Such a sweet gesture. However, I was really
looking forward to spending some quality time with my husband on the one day we
have an excuse to be romantic. But, I still accepted his gesture and went out
for an evening of self-indulgence.
After last night, I may have been too desperate to make up
for lost time. I think I can officially call myself a mass murderer. I’ll have
to look it up to be sure but I believe
it’s just the killing of three or more people over a short period of time (an
evening). At least I enjoyed myself. I got home and passed out from exhaustion
but I had a good time. One happy coupe and a drunk frat boy later, and I call
it a successful but frustrating Valentine’s Day.
I feel horrible, though, because James spent his romantic
holiday with a slightly manic depressive murderer. Last week, I decided enough
was enough and sat Heather down to talk to her about her behavior. I told her
enough was enough and she needed to start moving on. I may have been harsh but
I just couldn’t take it anymore. She was moaning around the house at all hours,
barely speaking, or sleeping. It was too much to handle. I clearly care less
about her well-being than I do my son’s so I feel no guilt or shame in
physically shaking a woman out of her hysteria. She crumpled to the floor and
cried for an hour before getting up, showering and sitting down at the dinner
table with the rest of us. She’s been quiet but responsive and going about
normal duties. She even said she’ll go back to work soon.
Except Heather is now on extended medical leave – all thanks
to her very understanding supervisor – which means she is automatically off
work until at least the end of the month. Of course this means I need to find a
temporary secretary, a fact which I have been dreading. I always hate my temps.
I hate teaching them, I hate coddling them. I’m going to bring Heather in to
train her temp and I’m hoping that having a focus will help with her recovery.
That last bit of business I should tell you about is my
sister. Her birthday is on tomorrow and I, in my infinite wisdom, invited her
over for dinner tonight. I told her I want to celebrate everything she’s
accomplished in the last few months but really I want to check in on her.
Honestly, I haven’t thought about my sister in weeks – I’ve been a little busy
– and have no idea what’s going on in her life and if I need to worry about
her. I’m kind of hoping having her around will be a calm reprieve from the
chaos of the month and a half.
Or maybe she’ll make it worse, who knows.
I’ll keep you updated.
As always, dear readers,
Stay Safe
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