kvetching up

Entry 1     12:20 p.m.   A Short Groaner Once there was a mother skunk with two children, both boys. She named them In and Out.  When In was out, Out was in, and when Out was out, In was In.  One day, when Out was in and In was out, the mother skunk called and called for In, as it was dinner time.  He didn't respond.  The mother skunk asked Out to go find his brother.  He came back almost immediately, with his brother in tow.  The mother skunk asked, how did you find your brother so fast?  Out answered, "It was easy, In stinked." Which leads me to this morning.  Jenny got up to go have breakfast with her friend Karina, who lives in Federal Way.  They always meet in the middle, somewhere near Southcenter. Today, they met at IHOP, which is clearly a favorite haunt of el pinché (and hers) as evidenced by at least one earlier journal entry.  It is on Capitol Hill, next to another favorite place of theirs, The Silver Cloud Inn,...

I always enjoyed tall tales. Today, not so much. It's pushing 1:30 a.m.  I can't sleep.  As we approach 9 months of illness and 8 months of me learning of the ongoing and years' long affair, I am tired.  So damn tired that I've buried the lede. Jenny, feeling healthy, was out again tonight at a Big Sisters of King County alum soiree.  I am in monosyllabic mode, given my restoked anger. She plops down on the sectional and prefaces the interaction with the following: "I have something hard to ask you."  Uh-huh is what she got back from me. She asks, "Have you called Kandice?" This question is ridiculous. I called her once, and I told Jenny after I made the call that I had no interest in speaking with her again.  Jenny then tells me that Eric's the pinché motherfucker's wife, Kandice, has claimed I have called her AND moreover, have suggested the two of us hook up.  To. Be. Very. Fucking. Clear.  Whether he is making this shit up or not, she is...

On Monday, I woke up in the smelly Airbnb apartment and decided I wasn't going to wait any longer.  I told her sisters and at 9:38 a.m., I called  Eric  the pinché motherfucker's wife Kandice at work, Banner Bank.  I told her about the affair. High level information, 3 years, Vegas trip in 2019, hotels every month, sometimes 2x a month. Venmoing money with lewd messages.  I apologized profusely for not telling her before this, but explained Jenny had threatened to go off chemo if she couldn't see  Eric  the pinché motherfucker.  Kandice repeatedly said it wasn't my fault. I was crying. She asked if Jenny had a birthday recently, I answered, yes, January 19, isn't his January 10? She said that explains the birthday card she had found. The call lasted 10 minutes. No way to put that genie back in the bottle.  After 6 months, I couldn't help myself.  Jenny operates under the belief she should be able to do anything that makes her happy,...