So the magic got sucked out of playing the househusband. Innocent comments about the eggs at breakfast and the shrimp in last night's jambalaya have pretty much burst that bubble. Somehow now I feel the need to be cautious in my attempts to please my boyfriend, which is a pretty big buzzkill. I had fun making that jambalaya. I don't remember hearing him say he doesn't eat shrimp. Ever. And although he claims he didn't mean to say it in an angry way ("You know I don't eat shrimp, right?" -- a very pointed criticism not of the jambalaya, but of how much I've been paying attention to his eating habits these past 2, 3 years) I have to admit that I'm still pretty steamed about it 15 hours later.

Maybe I'm just on a downswing, but now I'm thinking that the fun I was having cooking and cleaning was destined to end a little sooner than I'd anticipated. It's starting to feel a lot more like work than it did last week.

How can you feel so good one day and so desperately unhappy the next? These days I'm having are too... free-form, maybe. I need the daily grind to drown out some unhappiness now and then, I guess.

I'm going to drive to the library and maybe get a haircut. I'm in the middle of four loads of laundry, but it's not going anywhere right? Right now I'm on a path to some serious unhappiness. Television shows and websites full of things I don't really care about only make me feel worse. I need to get out of here for a couple hours.