Hi Rob, It does seem like she uses her intelligence to keep up a facade - and she is damn good at it too. I don't know what her addiction is, to be honest...though it does seem to be her work - since she has always been willing to sell her soul to her work - and the worse they treat her at a job, the more she tries to please the people she works for...
Even before she dropped the bomb she worked ridiculously long hours just to please her abusive supervisor...and after the bomb dropped it just got worse...though I think she may have also been having an EA with her "mentor".
Sometimes I wonder if she's just addicted to being angry with me...tonight she got angry with me for asking her to confirm what time she was going to bring my baby boy back on Monday morning.
It's been three days in a row now that she's been wearing that necklace I gave her...she was even wearing it this morning when she dropped of my baby boy - and she looked like she had just crawled out of bed...and was wearing it tonight...when she looked like she had gotten dressed up for something...her car was filled with shopping bags...which makes me wonder if she isn't addicted to shopping...
I don't know if it's right to say this out loud...but I don't think I even really like her anymore...It's such an odd feeling - knowing that I love her...but just not liking her...it kind of came to me today while I was at my S11's soccer games - just loving the time with my baby boy while his older brother played dazzling soccer (they lost the first game - and took out their frustrations in the second game...). Anyway, as I sat there with my two boys some mothers commented on how kind a man I was and how good a father...and I even overheard someone say something very nice about me in Spanish (for some reason they must have thought I didn't speak Spanish since I don't have an accent at all...don't know)....anyway...it was nice to be there and get such a neutral reminder that I am a good father and a good man - all while getting to spend precious time with my sons.
