After going off on a tirade this morning when I discovered the garbage bag I put out the night before was torn and scattered, and not picked up by the garbage men, the torrents of cussing  hit the ground running.

I’d spent over a week dealing with him having bad days where he couldn’t walk and demanded I pick him up each time he was down, injuring my back that had just become almost pain free for a change.

He was NOT having a bad day…He was walking and functioning.

However, at the time I launched into my tirade he was sitting in his man-doing-nothing-but-watching-TV chair. Watching me get the dog fed and out, fixing him something to eat, and not yet having a cup of coffee in me. Thus, when looking out the front door and seeing the garbage torn up, I went into super bitch mode.

The Curmudgeon took it to heart when I ranted about having to do everything around here with NO help for even the small things as I pulled on my coat, grabbed a new garbage bag, and my work gloves.

He sat down at the kitchen table and put a week’s worth of his pills together. I listened to him cuss and complain about what a pain in the ass doing it was…

Yeah, I know and you leave it for me to do all the time.

At this point, he’s still on my shit list (my back hurts like hell), along with the culprit who ripped up my garbage bag.

Betting this was the culprit again