J's father is a royal pain in the neck. He's always saying, "Oh, I'm so flexible, I'm always flexible, I always want to spend more time with J." And for a year and a half, I never once asked him for anything outside our agreement. But now? Now that I have a small life of my own? Now an extra ninety minutes after school on a weeknight is unthinkable. Switching nights is a grand gesture. Picking J up an hour later on the occasional Sunday night is a terrible imposition. But, he's still FLEXIBLE! No, he IS! He's the most flexible person in the whole world!

Pardon the vitriol, I'm just feeling constrained today. Trapped in an office all day with the passive-aggressive psycho-boss from Hell. Trying to keep my whole personal life within the boundaries of "every other weekend" and "one night during the week." Using my lunch hours not only for going to the gym and running miscellaneous errands, but also for every single haircut and medical appointment. Being a slave to the inscrutable rush-hour schedule of the 136 bus. Biding my time, waiting for The Irishman to call and say what time he's picking me up. Jumping up every six minutes when J needs something.

I think I'm taking next Friday off, that's what I think. They won't even miss me at the quarterly meeting.

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