Don't spend two months in your own fucking little world and then come back here and fuck up mine.

I have become used to being alone...in my house..although there IS another adult present at all times. The ball and chain very seldom leaves the couch, hell he doesnt leave the house but maybe every other day.

I tell him he's depressed, he needs some meds and therapy...seriously.,..its prozac time sportsfans.

He's going to the doctor on average three FUCKING times a week...so if THEY haven't noticed he's friggin depressed wtf are they doing?

I cook more than normal for him. He has almost stopped eating, unless I make it. He tells me what he weighs at least once a week..they weigh him at the docs..one of em does. He is seeing two or three of those overpaid hacks, I forget exactly...he hasn't seen his feet in years so this is a good thing, technically.

I ask him if I can get him anything every time I go thru the living room aka his bedroom...usually he takes me up on it..fucker. He had the nads to ask me to turn on the light the other evening. I SO wanted to jump square on his ass..with both feet...and scream "You Lazy sumbitch"...but I dont...cuz he's sick..but I think he's pushing the envelope with me. I am not his nanny and/or butler and he isn't handicapped for christs sake.

But when he comes back into MY space and starts playing "fifty questions" then I get a tad nasty on him. Like telling him to get his ass back up front if he's gonna bust my chops. He accuses me of "chatting" with my boyfriend...LMAO...B doesn't chat..right honey? B isn't my boyfriend..he's my soulmate..poor fucker.

Back to the ball and chain. I understand he has an annoying ring in his ears. I sympathize with him genuinely...but tinnitus is not curable. And everyone that has it, learns to live w/it...they don't have a choice. His isn't painful, so he's lucky in that respect.And its not constant..thats a plus right? They have ruled out all the really horrible things it could be like a blocked artery or an aneurism..so it must be tinnitus. I compare the ringing in his ears to the jets that fly very LOW over Ocean Beach, CA when they take off and land at Lindberg Field..which is like every 20 minutes during certain times of the day I might add. You can't hear people sitting next to you talk, you can't hear the tv or music if its playing, you cant HEAR SHIT except for the drone of those fucking jet engines as they pass overhead.

And I got used to the jets. I never thought I would..but I did. Just like everyone else does that lives in OB for any length of time.

I really want to scream the title of this post at him... But I wont. It wouldnt be nice...he's learning to cope with something horrible. I get that.

I just don't know how long I should let his pity party continue...and I don't understand why the doctors aren't doling out the prozac as depressed as he is around the house.

He could be just jerking MY chain.

But it felt good to write those words in the title..even if I can't say them to him...yet.