Invasion of the Body Snatchers?

I have actually never seen that film, nor its recent remake, but I think I understand the reference well enough from pop-culture and colloquial usage.  I was likened to it last night before bed, and it didn't sound charitable.  It wasn't a cheerful or a pleasant: "Hey honey, you are like 'invasion of the body snatchers' tonight!  Yay!"  It was displeased and suspicious and irritated.  "I feel like I don't even know the person next in bed with me."
(Again, not in a pleased way or a fun sexy role-play way.)

I maintained that I had no idea what he meant.

"Did I do something wrong?"  I prompted, non-plussed.
"No..."
"Have I been mean, or grumpy or something?"
"No it's..."
"Well I don't understand--"
"Yeah.  Neither do I."

*turns over in a huff and goes to sleep.

Meanwhile the apartment looks great.  I did several sinkfulls of dishes and am up early to hopefully finish up the rest before I go babysitting.  I changed the litter, so that is all fresh and clean.  I scrubbed and disinfected the whole bathroom, with special attention to the throne, which has had it rough for the last week or two (and was later frustrated when all my efforts at sanitation were later greeted by an Eric who came home from his friends announcing his stomach was 'grumpy with him' and proceeded into the commode to filthy it up again.  Sigh.  Looks like I'll be disinfecting that all over again soon enough.).  I tidied the living room, changed the linens on the couch to get rid of the ones the sickos slept on, disinfected all the couch pillows and fabreezed them to boot.  I tidied our bedroom area, putting all the laundry in the basket though I won't have time to get to it till next weekend.

And I did all of this without rancor, or malice, or a sharp word to anyone.

Aaron, in bed later, mentioned that all I had for him that eveining were 'two word answers'.  "Was I sharp with you?"  I asked, "Or short?"

"No."  He admitted grudgingly.  "Just brief.  And whenever I tried to get more out of you it was like pulling teeth."

"I'm sorry, I didn't intend to be brief."  I said, my voice passive and non-confrontational but puzzled.  "I was just busy."

He complimented the apartment when I finally sat down to relax.  I decided I was sick of waiting for him to feel like reading Harry with me, sick of asking if we could read it, sick of waiting for enough chunks of time with an eric-free zone, so I grabbed one of my christmas presents off the shelf and settled in on my freshly laundered couch to read.  (Most importantly, perhaps, I decided to stop blaming aaron for not reading with me, stop resenting him for not being in the mood to read, and stop feeling bitter about the time eric was around to cock-block my reading time.  No sense holding onto that rancor right?  That nastiness?)

Which is, apparently, the time that someone decides to talk to you.  Ever notice that?  I was available for talking the whole day whilst cleaning, despite my husband's claim that I only gave two-word answers.  He had his ass parked infront of his goldeneye game which he was playing obsessively, and while he says 'several times I stopped my game to try to talk with you', don't believe that revisionist propoganda.  A couple, maybe three times, he PAUSED his game after a botched mission or a completed level and inquired as to what was up or what I was doing.  PAUSING one's james bond game and looking over in my general direction does not,n my mind, signify the beginning of a meaningful conversation.  Maybe I'm projecting, as I'm a bit of an obsessive gamer too, but when I'm parked in that chair, the controller still in my two hands, the game score still playing softly on the tube whilst I'm in the menu screen?  That means anything I do or say is only a minor detour from my real objective, which is to continue with my game.  Maybe I just stopped to pretend I was still tethered to reality for a few moments, toss out an 'i love you so much', or a 'Sorry I've been playing so long, I'm in the middle of a really tough misiion' or a 'do you think I could have a tea?', maybe I stopped to use my voicebox and play human for a minute, but what I really want is to have reassurance that I'm not 'in trouble' for playing so long, and validation that he is happy that I continue my gaming.  Then it is: Unpause, back to the game, no further questions asked, my conscience eased, my enthusiasm re-fueled.

So when he'd pause and ask how things were going, sure my answers were concise, but i promise you this, the WEREN'T snippy or snarled or snide.  They were up-beat and even-tempered and at worst neutral.  They weren't loaded with passive agression or unspoken accusation, or guilt-trips.

I thought this was a major accomplishment, given that I'm a girl who abhors, absolutley detests, cleaning whilst someone else is sitting on their ass not helping.

But, Hey, I'd decided to clean.  Me.  I had not decided for both of us that we would spend the better part of sunday cleaning.  That's not fair, you know?  I would be pissed if the tables were reversed.  If I just got a new videogame and Aaron decided it was time for both of us to clean instead.  So I disposed of my resentment and feeling of martydom while I scrubbed or swept or put-away.  And I relaxed into the tasks I had chosen to undertake.  It was surprisingly effective.

Sure, I had twinges of blinding loathing directed at the man and at his brother (who wasn't even home!), but each time I forced myself to take a breath, examine my thought process and correct the habit.

At one point, during one of his pauses which he supposes is 'trying to talk' time, he asked me why I was doing so much cleaning all of a sudden.

I had my hands in the dishwater at the time and I weighed my answer carefully.  My gut response was: 'Because this place was a filthy pigsty and it was making me want to kill myself, and you weren't doing anything you promised to do, and your brother's awful contagion was everywhere making me feel like I couldn't move or touch anything or I'd be sick!'

However, in examining this response I discovered it wasn't a terribly healthy, productive, or pleasant way to answer his innocent question.

So I gave a more appropriate approximation of the same:  "Because I was unhappy with how the apartment was and I decided to do something about it."

He seemed taken aback.  "That's....that's great."  He said, as he might to one of his special ed students who'd just decided to do their homework for a change.  Surprised, puzzled, pleased, not-quite-believeing it could happen just like that.  "Are you happier now?"  He followed up carefully.

Again I started to respond the old-beth way, a snappish comment ready to burst from my lips, passive agression ready to bubble like hot acid from my lips, but I closed my mouth.  Took a breath.  Thought about it, honestly.  And replied "Yes.  I am."  And rinsed another dish.

"I'm guessing that might have been one of those two-word response moments he was talking about.  But when you have to check and recheck the things that are coming out of your mouth it sure isn't easy to feel verbose or extemporaneous.

So, laying there in bed, having been accused of being 'someone else', I apologized, not sure for what, exactly, but feeling lik I ought to.  He huffed and 'whatevere'ed and rolled over to sleep. 

And I couldn't help but think what a sad state of affairs it is when being productive and pleasant and even tempered means your husband believes you are 'acting strangely' and have been replaced by a stranger.  What kind of life must I make for that man normally?

I guess it was comforting to know he'd noticed a change.  But still.  I had sorta hoped he'd be happier for it, not suspicious and mistrustful.

The best intentions.  Ah well.

In addition to the cleaning, you may be pleased to know that I wrote two or three little CF vignettes--which is a great improvement on my normal pace as of late--and began the Percy Jackson Series! 

This Catholic girl is beginning to understand the appeal of the old protestant work ethic!  And I thought it was just for suckers...