Every goddamn time I bring up the JOB, it's like I've personally insulted his entire lineage! "I'M TRYING," he spits out. TRYING WHAT?! TRYING TO SEE HOW LONG WE CAN SURVIVE ON AIR AND baby drool?! WE HAVE A THREE-MONTH-OLD! A tiny, helpless human being who needs FOOD and SHELTER, you lazy ASS!
It's not some goddamn hobby, it's a necessity! And the sighing! The eye-rolling! Like I'm the one being unreasonable! "No one's calling me back!" WELL, MAYBE IF YOU ACTUALLY APPLIED TO MORE THAN THREE PLACES A WEEK, SOMETHING WOULD HAPPEN!
I'm beyond stressed. I'm functioning on fumes, covered in spit-up, and constantly worrying about how we're going to pay the goddamn bills, while he's acting like I'm the enemy for wanting him to PULL HIS WEIGHT! He needs to get his head out of his ass and realize we have a FAMILY now! This isn't some goddamn vacation! Get a FUCKING JOB! NOW!
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