to the rotten, no good, frustrating, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, pissy fucking day I’m having:
Go home (see how this is imaginary?)
Take off shoes and pants.
My gorgeous, loving, adoring man (see? imaginary) already has my beer open and something cooking so the house smells incredible. Or ooooh even better, he’s grilling. A nice big fucking T-Bone. Or some like minded piece of meat.
He knows that there is a good 15-20 minutes till the steak is done and he’s also got the kid(s?) occupied with something so he gives me the eyes. Hell yea, bathroom quickie, lets DO this. Stress is being relieved.
15-20 minutes later, I’m back on the patio, second beer in hand, very relaxing smoke in the other (the kids are eating INSIDE, eager to get back to whatever was distracting them before)(I’m an imaginary good mother ok?), tunes are going, conversation is flowing, work vents are being made on both parts, relaxation is setting in.
And look at that, the sun is setting, the fucking birds are singing and I just got laid.
And now I’m going to eat a fucking steak.
and then I woke up and realized it was all in my imagination and that my day is still crappy. The end.