Even though yesterday, my 24th wedding anniversary, wasn’t horrible, it wasn’t great.
“-” started his San Diego trip, where he declared his love to his subordinate, on the same day a year ago. I guess that way he won’t have to commit a third anniversary to memory.
It obviously bothered me more than I wanted it to, but I didn’t cry. Didn’t lash out at him. Or her. Send a weird card or anything.
I spent the day pretty much with my cat and in bed.
I drank some. Ate some.
Thought about the wonderful Valentine’s weekend I had just had.
And how I need to not be married anymore to someone I haven’t lived with in almost a year. Someone who lives with his mistress and her kids.
That would tidy up my life quite a bit.