So there's a lovely episode (as if there are any other kind) of Yes, Prime Minister wherein the PM comes to understand that he will never be able to use the nuclear deterrent; his opponents will never give him a reason to because they will use salami tactics. Being "home" again as I am, I'm understanding that a little too well; Magnum is a bit of a shit-disturber when he's buzzed (which he generally is) which is supposed to be okay - I'm used to it. Why change a 34 year track record now?
The problem is that I've reached a stage of life where I'm not just critical of his choices, but I know they were bad ones, and I'm frustrated by his refusal to address them. Also, as the mother of an eight month old Godzilla I've reached a stage of life where I don't get very much sleep and my temper is rather frayed.
So when he teases me for being grumpy or snippy or whatever else - which I know I am and always have been, not only when exhausted - it's getting hard to accept the slices of salami coming off while I sit on all the nukes in my closet, and not bark out the sort of potentially devastating shit we just don't say here, like "I didn't know drunk absentee fathers who combine misogynism with being totally whipped by his much younger wife knew big words like 'truculent'."
This is the problem with the nuclear deterrent, isn't it? Either you can't use it because you're not a total fucking asshole so it's a huge waste of money, or you'd only use it because you're crazy. With exhaustion, in my case. You can't use them tactically, really. They're just big, tragic, awful dangerous things sitting there and making everybody who thinks about them depressed.
Anyways, I'm taking his son jet-skiing tomorrow, maybe that will fix it.
The problem is that I've reached a stage of life where I'm not just critical of his choices, but I know they were bad ones, and I'm frustrated by his refusal to address them. Also, as the mother of an eight month old Godzilla I've reached a stage of life where I don't get very much sleep and my temper is rather frayed.
So when he teases me for being grumpy or snippy or whatever else - which I know I am and always have been, not only when exhausted - it's getting hard to accept the slices of salami coming off while I sit on all the nukes in my closet, and not bark out the sort of potentially devastating shit we just don't say here, like "I didn't know drunk absentee fathers who combine misogynism with being totally whipped by his much younger wife knew big words like 'truculent'."
This is the problem with the nuclear deterrent, isn't it? Either you can't use it because you're not a total fucking asshole so it's a huge waste of money, or you'd only use it because you're crazy. With exhaustion, in my case. You can't use them tactically, really. They're just big, tragic, awful dangerous things sitting there and making everybody who thinks about them depressed.
Anyways, I'm taking his son jet-skiing tomorrow, maybe that will fix it.
