Yup, it's all about the job.
the job that eats up the best part of your waking hours, turns you into a paranoid ball of nerves when you discover a file-sharing tool in your computer and made you gain ten kilos in less than a year.
blame it on the job. blame it on the fact that you're tired. blame it on me.
when you work i/we take a backseat. the sun is shining and spring is beckoning but you have to sleep so i while away the afternoon tip-toeing around the house because i dont want to wake you.
when you work it's like romance never existed. a woman is for cleaning the house, ferrying you around and fixing you dinner.
i am giving you a hard time. i am pushing you into a corner. i am asking for too much.
what are you giving me then? a car to always feel sorry for, a house too big and too old to clean by myself, or lonely dinners i have with the TV?
the tub of a man needs to seriously reconsider his rapidly decreasing number of options.
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