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,