Day Six

Day Six: Day I’m officially off the rails.

You guys, I am homicidal over squash. Fucking squash of all things! I even realize how irrational I am but there is just nothing to be done about my rage at this moment. Last night I made sausage stuffed acorn squash and I can promise you it was going to be de-fucking-licious. Around 11:00 WMFS Bambis* his way through the house to see if I was ok if he and The Instigator stayed out later:

WMFS: I took a cab home to see if you were ok with us staying out more.
Me: You took a cab?
WMFS: Yeah I took a cab, it only cost $12 to come see if you’re OK.
Me: It would’ve been free to use the phone.

I shit you not that actually happened.

At 1:00 I get the call to pick them up from the Ice House. They’re giddy and drunk and that’s cool, thing ONLY thing I ask is that they be quiet so I can go to sleep. Oh and please don’t burn down the house. WMFS passes out on the couch, The Instigator smokes in the garage for what seems like 2 years, it was probably only a month at best, stumbles in and hits the other couch. I hear the first beer crack. Cool. I hear rummaging in the fridge. I hear Ziploc bags opened, another beer cracked, hear my glass fruit rolling all over the place and then…I hear the tinfoil and the “oh ho” when he discovers what is under said tinfoil.

My. Stuffed. Squash.

The squash I made for my lunch because I’m trying to drop some goddamn insulation. The squash I was actually looking forward to eating. It was all I could do not to jump out of bed and deliver a Super Man kick to his neck. I realized even then how silly it was to rage over squash, none the less I was hot. For awhile there is silence, and then I hear the tinfoil go back on the container and it being returned to the fridge. OK I think, he only ate one half, I can deal with that. I mean he was hungry, and it’s not like he can drive to Muchos or anything. But then, his phone goes off, he grabs his keys, he’s out the door, car is started and he’s gone. This only makes my jaw clench tighter. WHATEVER! It’s 2:30 in the morning and I need to go to sleep!

Fast forward to me getting ready to leave for work and retrieving the squash; I lift the tinfoil to transfer the half that remains to a smaller container for safe transit. That’s when I fucking lost my shit. The motherfucker ate one whole half and then just the sausage stuffing out of the other half and then put it back in the fridge.

Now you tell me you wouldn’t want to deliver a major beat down.

Oh and then there’s this:
Scale: 0.0
Me: I don’t really care for your attitude

Spinach, strawberry, mango, smoothie (this tastes much better than it looks)
Green tea
Grapefruit w/salt
endive, walnut, pears and lemon and olive oil
Aqua (that’s fancy for water. Or Spanish I can’t really think clearly because of the rage)
star fruit (while everyone else a work inhaled cookies at our Cookie Friday!!)
salad, steak, and steamed veggies
Guess what I didn’t eat? Motherfucking stuffed squash!

*to Bambi means to stumble around like a new-born deer; usually brought on with intoxication

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