I can’t take it.

I really can’t.

And guess what?

It was not (another) drunken tirade tonight.

It wasn’t ten beer bottles stacked on the kitchen counter.

In fact he wasn’t even drinking tonight.

But…

We all know the toxicity of alcoholism extents far, far, far beyond the obvious.

Beyond the alcohol-related issues.

It seeps down into your soul like a gelatinous black gunk covers the world in a B horror flick.

Stuff.

Stuff and unfinished projects and half assed efforts.

We have had hole in our ceiling for ten years now.

TEN!

YEARS!

So this week end my husband decided to fix it!

At first I thought what a wondeful gesture.

Because I had forgotten…

He doesn’t start things to finish them.

He starts things to avoid finishing other things!

And so the finishing of the kitchen ceiling was started…

And by Sunday it was abandoned.

Along with the tools and the rearranged kitchen stuff and everything else that had been displaced in the effort to finish repairing the ceiling.

And so at 10 pm tonight, I am putting stuff back and shifting stuff and walking around stuff and…

Snapping at my kids.

And crying.

I just want a reasonable pleasant, organized, no-ten-year-old-hole-in-the-ceiling home!

The alcoholic husband…

It’s so much more than just the alcohol.

 

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