You must be f#ckin kidding me, right?
So, Patrick goes to the concert that he already had tickets to last night with my brother-in-law. It's a weekend concert party. Whooot for him. I figured it'd be good for him to release some of the feelings he probably had after yesterday's news.
I cook the kids French toast for breakfast. We hang out. We're doing fine. I tell Evan to get something out of the basement and he says,
"I can't. The carpet is soaking wet down there."
Yep. The day after he loses his job, we get water throughout the entire basement. Craploads of toys ruined. Boxes of books gone. And the clincher? The BEST PART??
Patrick knew before he left.
Yep. Evan told me that Daddy went downstairs to get his suitcase and said, "Don't come down here! The carpet's wet."
He didn't tell me. He left without alerting me to the piles of work that was awaiting me in the basement. I could have dealt with it last night, without being upset. Instead, I am left alone, AGAIN, to deal with this shit.
Pissed is putting it lightly. I am furious, sobbing and finally overwhelmed... It is freezing cold out and I don't know HOW I am going to dry all of those area rugs before mildew sets in. Tons of storage boxes are damp and I need to sort through them to see what was in them. Most of our valuables are in plastic boxes, but not all of it. Stupid? Yes. But who doesn't use a cardboard box now and then?
But wouldn't you at least have TOLD your spouse before you left?!?!?
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