I am writing this on Thursday but I actually did the weigh-in on Wednesday so here you go. I didn’t get on my computer all day until yesterday evening when we were about to go to the library, and logged in then only so I could make sure nothing I had out was overdue.
248.5 | 244 | 140
The past couple of weeks have been awful. I need to just take a day or two and bear down hard on that kitchen. I am SO ANGRY about that. If Matt cooks, the unspoken implication is that I’m supposed to clean up. Which is fair. It makes things easier on everyone. But then, if I cook–and I really need to cook most nights if I’m low-carbing so I know what I’m getting–then I also have to clean up then too, because God knows he doesn’t lift a finger. You might recall me stating that while my workload has increased something like threefold since we moved into this house (I went from an apartment flat to a two-story house with a basement, so three floors in all), his has not. He’s not a hardass about it, but as he’s the one paying the bills, I don’t like to give him too much crap.
Still. It’s bullshit. If you’re the breadwinner in your household but you won’t even pick your socks up off the floor (true story–he doesn’t), there is something wrong with you. If you want a maid, suck it up and pay the other adult for their time and trouble. If you just want them to do their share, their share is NOT everything that doesn’t involve your paying job. Grow the fuck up. They are not getting paid to do your job, and in this economy it’s likely they can’t get their own, so give a little to get a lot, or do your own share.
(He does give me an allowance, but it works out most months to something like $500 a month. That’s not even minimum wage. Then, on top of that, he spends himself down to zero and guess who winds up buying groceries about half the time? Three guesses and the first two don’t count.)
This is what is really getting me right now, it’s twofold: one, it’s really hard to low-carb with anything but a salad if the kitchen’s a fucking disaster. Two, it’s really hard to low-carb when the other adult brings home snacks for the kiddo like rice crackers, especially when you like rice crackers a lot.
There are other problems, like me giving up too easily. Sort of. I’m not walking away from this. It’s a pothole in the road, not a detour and I have not turned around and gone home.
Doesn’t mean I’m not annoyed about the two-pound gain. My one consolation is that at least some of it may be water weight. I’ve had swelling in my hands and feet the past couple of days.
Meh. Back to the drawing board.
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New rule: Anything that doesn’t make it into the hamper doesn’t get washed. Let him live with dirty socks and underwear for a while. He’ll figure it out.
Oh, I already do that. Actually, I was all ranty this day so I didn’t mention, but I don’t do diddly squat to pick up the basement. Screw it. His room and bathroom are down there, he can make them as grody as he likes. If he wants them clean, he knows what to do. He has his own laundry basket too. He’s closer to the washer and dryer than I am. Et cetera.