Buttons smashed

Her Royal Pain is good at smashing buttons. It is always assumed, irregardless of time of ay, that I am I awake, and doing sufficiently nothing, and usually that I can never have something to be doing, other than what she wants. She can move her fat arse across the hallway, walk into my room, and demand something. She can’t make a left instead of a right, and carry back from the kitchen whatever she wanted. She  is someone who finds sitting to exhausting to even be helpful.

If I don’t agree with being used, I either get pushed or I get guilted and pushed or I get threatened and pushed. She doesn’t really give a shit, as long as she gets what she wants. No amount of manipulation or coercion is generally beyond application, if she wants it enough.

I do not think that way: I refuse to.

and I am stubborn enough to refuse to cooperate, based on principal.

So for my trouble, I get made miserable with stress levels going past the point of  a cartoon vein buldging out ones forehead. Is it any wonder that I hate my life?.