The Next Time a Man Yells at Me, I’ll Start Crying Out Loud

By lunchtime, I hated all penis-moving creatures around me.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

Part 1. Early morning at home.

I had a shit day today. This morning my two-year-old son decided to go absolutely against me. Everything I wanted or said, he wanted or stated the opposite. My husband slept in the morning because he had a “tough night.” He doesn’t even understand the concept of a tough night since he never slept in the same room, let alone in the same bed with our son.

Anyway, I wouldn’t have minded going about the morning as a solo parent if it weren’t for the obnoxious treatment I got served by my son. Two hours later, when my dear husband woke up, I was worked out like a dog.

I requested five minutes break to go to the bathroom in silence, but my husband decided he needed an urgent answer regarding what should go in the washing machine that very moment. It pissed me off. Why don’t I get the right to recollect myself when I specified in advance that I needed the time, so I didn’t start screaming out loud?

Instead of spending time with his son, who was watching TV again, despite my complaints, my diligent husband was on a sudden mission to clean the house, involving me without consent.