Thursday May 17 I need to get a job because Primo is cranky

Primo was very cranky today. The stress of trying to campaign while he is also doing his regular job is wearing on him. And on me. He tells me I don't have any stress because I'm not the one with a job. I tell him that living with him is stressful enough. He is the Typhoid Mary of stress.

He wants me to find a job so he can quit his job. That's fine. I don't mind working. But if I'm going to work so he can quit, that means he has to do all the things I do: clean the house, cut the grass, cook, do laundry. He says he'll be happy to do all that, but that he doesn't have the same standards for housecleaning that I do. I think if I become the breadwinner, I get to define a certain standard, right?

I would also expect that if I get a job and he quits his job, I will no longer be in charge of ironing his shirts. He has been dressing very nicely for his campaign events: slacks or khakis with a button-down and a sport coat. He has been asking me to iron his shirts. As if Polka Dots cared about personal appearance. I've seen their women. Did I tell you the story about the lecture we attended where the audience was almost all Polka Dots? There were a lot of not-so-old women with long gray hair in banana clips, wearing Crocs and mom jeans and knitting.

Although I have to say now that I am coloring my hair to cover gray rather than just to have a different look, I am starting to think that going gray isn't such a bad idea. It's a pain in the neck to color my hair, especially now that it's really obvious when it's growing out. Before, the roots were not so easy to see because my hair was just drab, mousy brown underneath the Clairol #24 Clove. Now, I have graying roots and it's clear when I need to do a touch up.

So maybe I shouldn't be so hard on those graying women. But I can still mock them for their shoe choice.