Internal mental crisis averted…

I chatted with Orpheus last night. I HATE chatting online. In fact, I find it pretty taxing, but he sees it as less threatening than face-to-face conversation, so I broached the subject of that stupid survey. He said that, in reality, he probably wouldn’t leave me for a job, even an earth-shattering one… Perhaps not the resounding response I sought, but good enough after he explained that the question was unfair (it really was), and it’s highly unlikely given all the shit we’ve been through he’d dump me over any incoming job offers. He then turned it around, and said that a dream job would pay him a lot, and there’s the probability he’d offer me a salaried position as his Cabana Boy. I countered with a self-designed staff position of Kitchen Bitch, with full use privileges of the lower-rated Cabana Boy. He agreed. I was satisfied.

Tonight, we’re going Over to BakedAlaska’s to keep him company and share a little of the childrearing burden. QuakerNoOats has been out of town all week helping with a new customer installation, and BakedAK was left to deal with daughter-dearest, who is currently being weaned. Apparently, it’s going along pretty well… She’s old enough to get the fact that not everybody her age still gets Mommy-milk, and to feel shame because if it. Now, instead of a boob before bedtime, she gets a story. What a terrible thing! I want a boob before bedtime! I mean, not to feast upon, or do horrid sexual things to, but because, well, who doesn’t like a boob? Really… If I had fun-bags, I’d never leave the house.

And on that note, I think I’ll stop offending, honestly, just about everyone. Hope you all have a great weekend.