Ordinary Life.

Hi, sweetheart.

I’m sorry, I didn’t hear it.

Sweetheart, not now.

I’m drained.

I’m terribly tired.

Roman won’t go to bed for another two hours.

I still have to do his homework with him.

Caleb, it’s not easy.

It’s not fun.

Roman makes mistakes.

He gets cranky.

And I’m trying not to explode while explaining to him that words are supposed to be read from left to right, not backwards from the end.

We still have math ahead of us.

And I should probably eat something.

My head is spinning.

I went to the store.

It was a nightmare.

I hate stores in general.

But a grocery store is hell.

That disgusting, filthy cart.

Roman walking around with his mouth open.

Me worrying that he might run away from me because God knows what kind of people are around.

No, that’s not true!

It is hard.

All of it is hard.

You have to choose everything.

You have to accept that you’ll have to touch products some other person touched before you.

And that person standing across from you — did he just blow his nose?

Is he sick?

God. God.

There are ordinary people everywhere.

It’s disgusting.

Everything smells.

A grocery store is hell.

Yes.

Hell.

For me, it is humiliating.

I am supposed to be doing other things.

God, it was a nightmare.

Roman whined the whole way.

He said it was too hard for him.

I had to carry the bag.

God.

Roman is asking for salad.

And I can barely breathe already.

I’m tired.

I’m exhausted.

I hate ordinary life.

It is just a nightmare.

Thank you.

I don’t know.

The boys are supposed to come.

And Roman’s father is supposed to help.

Yes.

Thank God he exists.

I would have simply died there in tears.

Are you mocking me?

I’m glad.

Because this is not a joke, Caleb.

Women like me are not made for all of this.

I hate it.

I hate ordinary life.

Thank God the boys do everything.

If I had to clean and cook and write on top of everything else, I don’t know what I would do.

Yes, for God’s sake, how am I not supposed to cry?

I’m tired.

I want to be held, you asshole.

How is that not clear?

Stop pushing me.

Don’t make me explain something this obvious.

Do I really have to spell out even this?

Oh, really?

Yes.

No.

That’s not what I mean.

Just solve the move faster.

Caleb, “I’m trying” is not an answer.

We are here.

You are there.

Damn it, do whatever you have to do.

Just take us to yourself already.

I don’t know.

Roman’s father is a judge.

I don’t know how this is handled.

I asked him.

It seems Roman can leave the country, but everything has to be confirmed through a notary.

And every single detail has to be agreed on.

Where his son is.

What exactly he is doing.

Where he lives.

What he eats.

When.

Basically his whole schedule.

Yes.

As far as I understand, I can leave the country myself without any problem.

I think I just can’t break the law.

That’s all.

I don’t want to joke right now.

I’m sorry.

No.

I didn’t mean to pressure you.

I’m sorry.

Yes.

When you’re exhausted, you can say all kinds of things.

Mhm.

Yes.

A wedding is beautiful.

But not right now, okay?

I want to talk about it when I’m happy and full of energy.

I don’t want to ruin the energy of our wedding with my exhaustion.

I know.

Thank you.

Yes.

Okay.

I don’t know.

If I don’t pass out, I’m going to put Roman to bed.

And I’ll probably fall asleep with him.

Thank you.

If I don’t answer tonight, then tomorrow morning, okay?

Gooooood.

😡

Caleb, I am begging you.

Do not tell me to hold on.

I hate that phrase.

It is not normal that I have to hold on.

I am not a man.

😡😡😡