I'm seething now. We both worked 9 to 5 today. I got woken at 5.15, up by 5.45, did breakfast, dressing the DC, change bag, school bags etc, more washing, his contribution was keeping an eye on DD while I had a shower.
He picked them up from the CM and gave them spaghetti hoops for tea. I put them to bed, sorted laundry, put the shopping away, did all the dishes including the same grill pan he lectured to me about having crumbs left in it last week. He went to bed at half 9 because he's got to get up at 5.45 tomorrow.
I would cope with all this if
A he hadn't brusquely announced last night that he needed a certain item of clothing dry by this morning
B he hadn't used a separate pan to heat baked beans tonight so I had two to clean, neither of which I'd used
C he wasn't so fucking ignorant about the fact that I feel unwell. I mentioned that I could really taste the curry powder I'd added to my stir fry and he said 'I'm sure I didn't go on about it this much when I was ill'. The git just lay in bed feeling sorry for himself. I've hardly fucking gone on about it. I've been working and looking after children because the world keeps turning
D I didn't have PMT
This is an irrational rant but may have saved me from putting a pillow over his snoring head 