I'm pretty sure I'm a murderer. I'm almost certain of it. Today, the love of my life went to work really early, like he normally does. I got up at 7AM, got dressed and went to the grocery store--to buy food--being as we had NONE.
I hurried so I could beat *him* home--I knew he was coming back by the house for coffee and breakfast. I fed him well and sent him on his way. Then I snuck out of the house and away from my wifely chores to hang out with a girl friend all day.
I got home just in time to clean this, clean that, fold this and put that away. Then I remembered: I hadn't fed or watered the parrots today. Or uncovered them.
Yeah. Apparently they didn't appreciate my neglect. They are dead. And it's all my fault. I felt so sick to my stomach (still do). I covered them back up IMMEDIATELY. As soon as I saw them laying on the floor of their cage. And I don't want to be near them. *He* won't be here for another hour or so. I had to tell him over the phone. I don't like giving him bad news.
Yesterday we had such a good day. He was off. I was off (still jobless). We had no children to listen to, entertain... we concentrated on each other. And now...today.
I sure know how to ruin a mood huh? I feel a beer in my future--but I'm trapped in my bedroom--held hostage by the dead bodies of George and Mandy.
Hopefully they are screeching their heads off in parrot heaven. With toys to play with, Cheetos to nibble and a few sips of stolen wine. And I hope *he* doesn't hold me too responsible. It wasn't like it was premeditated. Tho, I did threaten Mandy with a nice BBQing a few times when she tied to bite me. I guess I won't be getting that orange kitten I asked for, for Christmas... sigh.
Comfort books. Is this even a thing?
2 days ago