Root canals hurt. They hurt a lot.

What's worse is that I am supposed to do a reading practicum tomorrow and establish rapport with a kid I've never met before and I feel like someone ran into my jaw with a steamshovel.

I was all happy I could drop the assessment class. I was wrong. My reading class is a licensure class and is considered undergraduate, so I have to keep all the classes for retaining my GA-ship. I got an extension on the assessment project due tomorrow, and lord knows, I've got more homework than I can shake big sticks at.

I don't know if I'm just hurting or what, but my husband has been a real butthole. He's been ill-tempered and cussing at me and I just wish he'd fuck off. No, I haven't told him that. He's been dealing for one stupid week with what I did for three freaking months -- single parenting while the other parent was unavailable. I was not a butthole while I took care of things. I didn't cuss him out. I simply did what had to be done and sometimes put some long hours in doing it. I thought for one week, he'd actually pitch in and be nice to me, but he hasn't. He's played computer games at every turn and been a total buttwipe about everything from doing laundry to cleaning floors. He promised that he'd help get the house in order when it was show week, but instead worked 3 of 5 days and managed to get in a whole bunch of computer game time, but the bathroom floor continues to have an odd texture. His answer, is that if I'd just tell him to do stuff, he'd do it. I feel like at 27 years old, I shouldn't have to treat him like one of the kids and ask him to do fucking everything. If you see filth on the floor, generally, that means, CLEAN THE FREAKIN' FLOOR, OK? Oh, and he can't understand why he's not getting laid. Yeah, the pain is a factor, but so is the overwhelm.

I'm too fucked up tired/sick/in pain with this stupid tooth and too buried in homework and work-work to deal with the usual "nag him til he pukes" scenario.

It would be miraculous if he'd actually just pitch in and do this shit on his own. I called and spoke to him at lunch today, but I don't know that it was worthwhile to have bothered. I had the distinct impression I'd been politely ignored.

All I want to do is cry right now, which I'm sure is because I'm frustrated and in agony. 1500mg of vicodan isn't helping the pain much, but the alternative is to send Mike to town for a prescription that may render me unconscious for my reading practicum.