I don't know why I do this for comments. I threw away my two paper journals because they're rather perverted for this house of kids I'm in. I'm unhappy today with my toddler bosses and can't quit my job. I'm writing it here and can't care if I'm liked or disliked because of it. I goddamn care too much for some silly reason. My real purpose of writing here is because it houses my only journal. It's a bonus for you if you like to read me, crickets, but I hate to break it to you that this is for me, and so, not always pretty--I have other goods and bads besides hair days.

In fact, if you saw me you'd see I don't have bad hair days at all. I am blessed with nice hair. And then I'll die, right? I don't have to strain myself in life because my hair looks great all the time, right?

But today it looked greasy apparently. I visited my husband at work for the first time with the boys. His office is awesome and just as he had drawn and described it. The people he works with are young and hip. Some are girls. They seem cool and I wish to be their friend.

The shit of the day was my husband talking in man-tongues about my possible jealousy of the way the girls looked (and my hair being greasy, fuck him and his little dog too!). He doesn't know me at all if he believes himself, and it sorta burns. Honey, I told him without saying honey, I like the way I look--the desirable hair (fashionably clumped, not greasy), the body where doing less gets me more, the makeup application skills and the canvas, etc.--it's the freedom these girls have and I don't that I envy. And if he finds them attractive, so be it. I found them attractive! They have no kids!

It's a sensitive subject for me. I'm sad because he was so abrasive. A part of me wishes to be single with no kids and able to waltz right into my career after I graduate this winter. A big part. She also likes the thought of having her money and time all to herself. A teeny part of me knows these girls probably envy what I have, but that thought gets washed away with the juice stuck to the living room floor....

[something about my husband wishing for an orgy goes here]

[something about daycare and having my cake and eating it too goes here]