Contempt

It must be some kind of loathe, I can not interpret it as anything else. It almost happens at the exact same time each year, when my husband shows such a unhidden contempt towards me and our children. He must truly despise us.

Or why would he otherwise do it? And continue to do it. Year, after year, after year? Fair enough, one must ask why we stay.

No, enough is enough! Next year me and my boys will not be here when the Mr determines to turn the heat off. We will not yet again freeze in our own home. We will go to Italy or Spain or somewhere else warm. The Mr can stay at home and be cold. Oh, so cold.

I give to him this song to remember us by

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