sometimes women get weary

it seems all i do these days is talk myself blue . . . mostly to my husband who just stares at me.

i've come to the conclusion we either do not speak the same language or he has a hearing (perhaps listening) problem or i have a speaking problem or, like everyone else says, it is all sleep deprivation. i don't know. i'm just tired.

i am weary of being the dynamite under his butt.
i am weary of being last for consideration.
i am weary of sleep deprivation.
i am weary of financial problems and foreclosure and short sales.
i am weary of to do lists that never get done.
i am weary of clutter and crap and crappy clutter.
i am weary of job hunting.
i am weary of resistance - mostly mine - i know it's futile to resist.
i am weary of health issues.
i am weary of medical bills - $11,000 worth to be exact.
i am weary of no fun.
i am weary of no rain.
i am weary of no-show showings of the house.
i am weary of stress.
i am weary of unemployment without benefits.
i am weary of calendars.
i am weary of being fat.
i am weary of low self-esteem.
i am weary of depression.
i am weary of feeling useless.
i am weary of limbo
i am weary of laundry and dishes and all the chores that never end.

i am NOT weary of baby c's laughter.
i am NOT weary of baby c's smile.
i am NOT weary of baby c's warm smelling head.
i am NOT weary of being baby c's mama.

i want to run away with baby c and, yes, her papa to a wonderful place where i am not weary and have no worries and we can live happily ever after.

yes, i am dreaming.