Interesting, But Not Interesting Enough

I thought the little thing about Texas I wrote was good.  Not let's have you publish a book good, but good.  I was trying to be cynical, a bit funny and I was a little proud of it.  Not, look Mom I tied my shoes for the first time proud, but moderately prideful.

As I wrote, Shawn sat in the chair nearby playing his PSP.  He plays in here because it is known as a "smoking room".  It is a room where I am less likely to be when he's home so he can smoke it up without bothering me.  Until I need to email someone, that is.  For anyone's future concern, the bedroom is also a smoking room as soon as I go to work.  Of course. 
"Can I read this to you?  I think it's kind of good," I said.
"Sure," Shawn replied.  I commenced to reading with an astounding tone of sarcasm, one of my best known speaking traits.  He never so much as paused his video game or looked up.  "What do you think?" I asked. 

"It was....Okay," he replied, never once looking away.  The Guy-to-Woman tranalation for that is: "I wasn't really listening, but I'd better say something here."

What really bothers me about this is that Shawn will stop me from doing things to tell me the same story for 3,964th time.  In the same day.  He makes these awesome, complicated plans for selling things on eBay, for creating things in the garage, to make a trip to the friggin' moon and he tells them to me over and over an over and over and over and over and goes on and on and on and on and on and on.

Just this afternoon, I sit here, dying for a cold shower after working 9.5 hours in God-awful heat, spending the next 2.5 hours grocery shopping, bringing in the groceries, preparing lunches for the next day, cooking his dinner, doing dishes, getting his school stuff ready--all that jazz so I can shoo him out the door and get myself into pure cold water.

I downloaded some fresh Spanish lessons for work tomorrow and I did so, Shawn spoke of another plan, and went on for approximately twenty minuets.  At least some of it was new stuff but not much was stuff I didn't already know.  Some of this was information everyone knew.  I thinking to myself, go to school!  I want to shower & eat my single serving of ice cream!

I hate to sound as though I am being so ugly toward Shawn.  It's not exactly as though I'm just waiting for him to go to school, to leave.  It's not like that at all, please do not misunderstand me.  I'd love it if I could shower and he could chat to me all night about new and exciting things.  What bothers me about this is that he is making himself late for school to tell the same story again and again but could not take three minuets to listen to my short take on why people actually fought over the land of Texas.

I got a bum deal.