Starting to Hate Sundays

Not exactly Sundays but the days that we do the transfer station run, which usually happens on Sunday.

I’m starting to hate the transfer station runs because inevitably, Ron has some petty criticism of something I’ve done.

It starts with a drawn out “Uhhhh” followed by a “helpful” suggestion that implies a “better” or “more thought out” idea.

Now, I’m an old woman and as it turns out, have some physical issues that result in my tiring easily. Some days it’s enough to get my sorry self out of bed the morning, brush my teeth, comb my hair, and get dressed.

Meanwhile, I have gardens to tend to and other responsibilities, including bill-paying and cooking. I’ve recently finished a couple of pretty big software projects, too.

And being homely, I have to invest a lot of energy in interactions with other people, trying to be as careful as I can not to offend. There are no second chances when you’re homely.

So, when Ron winds up to point out a problem with something I’m doing, I don’t have the energy, either physical or psychic, to deal graciously with it.

If only he would learn to stop.