“A pair of shoes can change your life. Just ask Cinderella.”

If I never see another fucking white bookshelf it will be soon enough for me. He started painting Wednesday and it has been a morning to night ritual that has prevented any holiday time other than fifteen minutes looking at the tree, two hours of tv and the things I planned for us to do. Oh well I forgot dinner. He always has time to eat what I cook and it can be wildly varying hours because his “projects” always override anything else that is happening. “DIANA, get the cat out of here.” “ Diana did you see the level? “ “Diana, where are those extra shims?” SO I thought I was handling it well until this afternoon I hit the wall and thought I am NOT making brandied chicken breasts so he can take a leisurely bath after painting all day and then he will have to go to bed at 8 because he is so exhausted. SO as far as I am concerned the holidays are over. We don’t get to go look at lights or have a holiday drink at the Heathman or stroll downtown hand in hand just for the fun of it. And then thursday he leaves again for a few final weeks away and when he comes back the projects start. If they were not so disruptive I might handle it better. Heaven forbid he take the shelves to the workshop to paint. No he sets up four saw horses in the room , moves all the furniture and boxes until total chaos and a wall of things surrounds him and my job is supposed to be keeping the cat out, making his food and ceaselessly admiring his obsessive work. Whereas wheni complete something he takes a quick peak and says nice. Thanks for the rant, I feel better.