Two very bad days in a row for The Curmudgeon. I can’t wait for him to start the new medication in hopes that he improves on it.

His bad days mean I get to wake to a message on the phone from him saying he’s down and can’t get up. Cue adrenaline rush, pounding heart, and lots of cussing. I leap out of bed, dash down the stairs (nearly breaking my neck there), and manage to, once again, no, twice again, hurt my back getting him up. Both. Days.

I am exhausted clear to the bone, frustrated as hell, and one lottery win away from leaving.

Yeah, I said that.