So, Superman totally thought it would be fun to surprise me on Friday after a supremely terrible day at work with some news. Well, his mom was here too, which apparently meant that giving the news was super fun. His bucket/band/wtfever is coming up. Well, they announced his expected D month.
I knew it was coming.
It didn’t stop the tears.
No, it’s not in the next 8-12 weeks.
I’m still pissed.
Now, I’m actually thinking about getting a refill on my stupid BC because you know what? If for some obscene reason we magically got pregnant in the first few months, guess who would TOTALLY miss the birth?! OMMFG. The AF has it out for me, I’m telling you. I’m over this shit. I’m over my job. I’m over my boss. I really hope that crazy biotch gets arrested (yes, I know that’s not nice but you know what? I don’t really care right now). Not only have I been screwed repeatedly recently, and not the good kind, I’m apparently being TDY’d. I don’t know if I mentioned this so if it sounds familiar, I’m sorry but it HAS to come out again. WHO THE HELL TDY’s SOMEONE AND DOESN’T TALK TO THEM?!?! I’m NOT military. God forbid I didn’t have something to do that week, oh wait, I’m dogsitting. No joke, crazy woman NEVER (and still hasn’t) actually spoken to me about this TDY. I’m supposed to go next Monday and she hasn’t actually vocalized anything with me. But you know what she was kind enough to do? Email me 4 mother-effin’ times on Friday to ask me about crap for this TDY and do I need help and have I gotten this done and blah blah blah. Oh, and lastly, I run an instructional program for 60 3ish year olds. If I’m not there, no one else does it. Supposedly, I’m supposed to just cancel my program for the week to accommodate her TDY schedule. I made a commitment to these people.
On Monday, I should get a phone call telling me whether or not I have a new job. PLEASE send good juju my way for this one. If I don’t get a new job, it’s possible someone might not live through the next couple of weeks.