What a long-ass week. And yet, in some respects, I feel as though I missed a whole day in there somewhere. I can't quite believe that it is actually friday! The weekend is almost upon us. Oh man oh man oh man. I have so much visiting of friends to do this weekend that I wonder if any housecleaning will get done at all.
I had a rough night last night. Maybe because wednesday night found me up so late, keyed up from my chai and stimulating conversation or whatever else was keeping me all abuzz and aflutter and up into the wee hours talking with my husband like we used to do in high school. Maybe from sleep deprivation I was exhausted. Maybe because it was our first whole week of work since before Christmas break. Or maybe it was due to the guest who has well over-stayed his welcome. For any and maybe all of those reasons, I came home from work last night at about 8, 8:15 to find my husband and his brother lounging around. Not specifically a problem, really. Aaron works hard and deserves to chillax and veg. However, thursday is my UBER long day because I teach drama, and so I don't get home till well after Aaron, so he usually cooks me dinner.
I come in the door and he goes: " Hi Beth." (Isn't is kinda weird when you get called your actual name by your partner? It is such a rare occurance that it always jars me a little. Whenever he says: I love you Beth, it just about melts me into a puddle because it just resonates so differently than the cuddly and wonderful nicknames. I love you Beth sounds so intimate, so deeply personal, whereas 'I love you, punkin' or button, or angel, or any of the other thousands of pet names sound wonderful and affectionate, but not as powerful.) "How come you didn't call to tell me you were on your way?"
Ok. Yes. I usually call when I get out of Starline and let him know I'm on the way so that he can get dinner started. HOWEVER.
"Your phone is dead." I say flatly, glancing at and trying not to care about the still dirty dishes in the sink (that aaron was supposed to take care of days ago). I had tried to give him a call around 3, just before his Aftercare shift started, to say hi and check in, and the phone was stone dead. It has been on the absolute fritz lately-- and thank goodness it is time for his two-year upgrade, because we cannot afford to just go buy a new one, but obviously he NEEDS a cell phone. Anyway. THe thing has been shutting off randomly and all that, so yes, I didn't even bother frustrating myself by trying to call. I figured it would go directly to voicemail~~ and am I the only woman who gets irrationaly angry when her fella's phone goes directly to voicemail? Even though it is not his fault, don't you end up getting fucking pissed the fuck off?? Well, maybe it's just me being Irish or something. It makes me hopping mad, and that's nothing I wanted when I was already bone-tires, with burning eyeballs and drooping lids all the way home from stoughton.
So I come in the house, he says he made sure that the phone was on to recieve my call, what could I do but shrug and apologize. But really? He knows what time I get out of teaching. He knows with a ten minute margin of error at what time I will walk through that door. He couldn't have had dinner ready? Really? Was the episode of futurama you were watching so thoroughly engrossing that you hadn't spared a glance at the clock and thought 'oh, my wife will be home any minute, maybe it is time to whip up some sandwiches or soup or mac and cheese or something???'
So now I'm home, and this show is on LOUD, i mean it, I'm not one of those sensitive eared sallies (my sister is a volume NAZI!), but this episode of fucking futurama was BLARING, and all I wanted was peace and quiet. Again, no one's fault, so I tried not to get too pissy. He asks me what he can make me and I am honestly too tired to be hungry. Plus I'd picked up some veggie sushi for lunch, so I really wasn't starving. I I went into my room and got pj's on and every single simple task felt like it was draining me of energy. And still the tv blared on. And cartoons are so obnoxious if you aren't watching them-- have you ever noticed?
So I make the decision not to join the brothers in the living room, but to go to my bed. Maybe read. Surf the web. Decompress.
An hour later Aaron offers to make Mac N Cheese, homemade mac n cheese mind you, for himself and eric. Ok. Ok. Ok. I DID say I wasn't hungry, and I WAS up in bed, and it WAS way too late to be eating a meal. But. BUT. But. All of a sudden I wanted the absolute warm soothing comfort of my husband's homemade mac n cheese. When he was done making it (so, what, another 20ish-30 minutes right?) I am super tired, but all I want is a small bowl of mac n cheese to make me warm and cozy and wrapped in love. He gives Eric a bowl. Eric says that the meal is 'pretty awesome'. Before Aaron settles in to eat his own meal he comes in to see me. And I get so happy all over, thinking how considerate he is, but he wasn't going to offer me any. He was just checking on me. Which was sweet, too, don't get me wrong, but this is a girl who gets irrational over food situations. He is sweet and kisses my head and again asks if everything is allright. I once again explain that there's nothing wrong beside me being so thoroughly exhausted. Before he goes I ask for a small bowl, just a small amount of his mac n cheese. "Oh." He says, looking worried or something. "I didn't make any extra--you said you weren't hungry--" I agree. "I'm not hungry, I just love your mac n cheese, it's ok. forget it." He quickly offers me some of his, but I shake my head and insist it was just a passing whim.
He leaves. I ask him to shut off my light so I can sleep. I am way over tired now. I lay abed and listen to them eating their dinner. And a resentment grows up inside of me that is startling and viscious. That kid out there is eating my dinner, I think to myself in a voice that sounds alot like one of the voices of smeagol\gollum from LOTR. He's stealing my dinner, he's usurping my tv\livingroom\house, AND worst? He's turning my husband against me! He's trying to make it like old times, when he lived with aaron and I only visited! I feel like an interloper in my own home! I am not wanted! I am a drag, I'm the pain in the ass that noone wants. I sniff air full of the stench of feline urine and boil with rage that my husband also forgot to change the litterbox (another thing he said he'd do.). And then I start thinking about how far we are into february and how I haven't seen any movement nor heard the slightest peep about Eric's supposedly impending move-out. And I begin to weep. I try to do it silently. Right on the other side of the wall I imagine the tv might be shaking with my supressed sobs, but the asshole playing videogames whil I'm trying to sleep doesn't care or doesn't notice.
Eventually a sniffle gets too loud, or my shaky breathing attracts Aaron's attention and he comes in, knowing something is very wrong. It was awful. It was embarassing, to be crying with Eric right there. It was awful. Aaron was very comforting and I apologized again and again for crying. He said I was probably sad becaus I'd come in and gone right to bed. I wanted to scream that WHAT OTHER OPTION DID I HAVE??? when my living room is infested with a person's presence that sucks all my joy and ease out of me. But I did not. I simply wept for a little bit and then stopped weeping. He kissed my forehead and rubbed my back and told me to go to sleep. I did. I fell to sleep thinking dark, unhealthy thoughts, and woke up feeling almost as tired as I had been before sleep, despite the fact that I'd slept like a stone. I didn't even stir when Aaron came to bed, a difficult feat considering my head's location at the top of the ladder and the fact that he has to climb over me to get into his spot in the bed.
Yeah. So, sure I went all irrational. I was tired. I recognize the smeagol-ness of some of my trains of thought last night. But that doesn't diminish my concern about the March 1st deadline. We shall see. Aaron is confident about it. I have to have faith.
Today is also Eric's birthday, so I also have to be extra nice.
I'm going out for a drink with a friend tonight, and wine and cheese at his place after that. Maybe I'll be able to unwind a little and relax some.
Do any of you ever have times where you just cry like that? Just nothing else seems possible until you've had that cry? Maybe I'm simply a lunatic and I need help.
Possibly I just really, really wanted macaroni and cheese.
I had a rough night last night. Maybe because wednesday night found me up so late, keyed up from my chai and stimulating conversation or whatever else was keeping me all abuzz and aflutter and up into the wee hours talking with my husband like we used to do in high school. Maybe from sleep deprivation I was exhausted. Maybe because it was our first whole week of work since before Christmas break. Or maybe it was due to the guest who has well over-stayed his welcome. For any and maybe all of those reasons, I came home from work last night at about 8, 8:15 to find my husband and his brother lounging around. Not specifically a problem, really. Aaron works hard and deserves to chillax and veg. However, thursday is my UBER long day because I teach drama, and so I don't get home till well after Aaron, so he usually cooks me dinner.
I come in the door and he goes: " Hi Beth." (Isn't is kinda weird when you get called your actual name by your partner? It is such a rare occurance that it always jars me a little. Whenever he says: I love you Beth, it just about melts me into a puddle because it just resonates so differently than the cuddly and wonderful nicknames. I love you Beth sounds so intimate, so deeply personal, whereas 'I love you, punkin' or button, or angel, or any of the other thousands of pet names sound wonderful and affectionate, but not as powerful.) "How come you didn't call to tell me you were on your way?"
Ok. Yes. I usually call when I get out of Starline and let him know I'm on the way so that he can get dinner started. HOWEVER.
"Your phone is dead." I say flatly, glancing at and trying not to care about the still dirty dishes in the sink (that aaron was supposed to take care of days ago). I had tried to give him a call around 3, just before his Aftercare shift started, to say hi and check in, and the phone was stone dead. It has been on the absolute fritz lately-- and thank goodness it is time for his two-year upgrade, because we cannot afford to just go buy a new one, but obviously he NEEDS a cell phone. Anyway. THe thing has been shutting off randomly and all that, so yes, I didn't even bother frustrating myself by trying to call. I figured it would go directly to voicemail~~ and am I the only woman who gets irrationaly angry when her fella's phone goes directly to voicemail? Even though it is not his fault, don't you end up getting fucking pissed the fuck off?? Well, maybe it's just me being Irish or something. It makes me hopping mad, and that's nothing I wanted when I was already bone-tires, with burning eyeballs and drooping lids all the way home from stoughton.
So I come in the house, he says he made sure that the phone was on to recieve my call, what could I do but shrug and apologize. But really? He knows what time I get out of teaching. He knows with a ten minute margin of error at what time I will walk through that door. He couldn't have had dinner ready? Really? Was the episode of futurama you were watching so thoroughly engrossing that you hadn't spared a glance at the clock and thought 'oh, my wife will be home any minute, maybe it is time to whip up some sandwiches or soup or mac and cheese or something???'
So now I'm home, and this show is on LOUD, i mean it, I'm not one of those sensitive eared sallies (my sister is a volume NAZI!), but this episode of fucking futurama was BLARING, and all I wanted was peace and quiet. Again, no one's fault, so I tried not to get too pissy. He asks me what he can make me and I am honestly too tired to be hungry. Plus I'd picked up some veggie sushi for lunch, so I really wasn't starving. I I went into my room and got pj's on and every single simple task felt like it was draining me of energy. And still the tv blared on. And cartoons are so obnoxious if you aren't watching them-- have you ever noticed?
So I make the decision not to join the brothers in the living room, but to go to my bed. Maybe read. Surf the web. Decompress.
An hour later Aaron offers to make Mac N Cheese, homemade mac n cheese mind you, for himself and eric. Ok. Ok. Ok. I DID say I wasn't hungry, and I WAS up in bed, and it WAS way too late to be eating a meal. But. BUT. But. All of a sudden I wanted the absolute warm soothing comfort of my husband's homemade mac n cheese. When he was done making it (so, what, another 20ish-30 minutes right?) I am super tired, but all I want is a small bowl of mac n cheese to make me warm and cozy and wrapped in love. He gives Eric a bowl. Eric says that the meal is 'pretty awesome'. Before Aaron settles in to eat his own meal he comes in to see me. And I get so happy all over, thinking how considerate he is, but he wasn't going to offer me any. He was just checking on me. Which was sweet, too, don't get me wrong, but this is a girl who gets irrational over food situations. He is sweet and kisses my head and again asks if everything is allright. I once again explain that there's nothing wrong beside me being so thoroughly exhausted. Before he goes I ask for a small bowl, just a small amount of his mac n cheese. "Oh." He says, looking worried or something. "I didn't make any extra--you said you weren't hungry--" I agree. "I'm not hungry, I just love your mac n cheese, it's ok. forget it." He quickly offers me some of his, but I shake my head and insist it was just a passing whim.
He leaves. I ask him to shut off my light so I can sleep. I am way over tired now. I lay abed and listen to them eating their dinner. And a resentment grows up inside of me that is startling and viscious. That kid out there is eating my dinner, I think to myself in a voice that sounds alot like one of the voices of smeagol\gollum from LOTR. He's stealing my dinner, he's usurping my tv\livingroom\house, AND worst? He's turning my husband against me! He's trying to make it like old times, when he lived with aaron and I only visited! I feel like an interloper in my own home! I am not wanted! I am a drag, I'm the pain in the ass that noone wants. I sniff air full of the stench of feline urine and boil with rage that my husband also forgot to change the litterbox (another thing he said he'd do.). And then I start thinking about how far we are into february and how I haven't seen any movement nor heard the slightest peep about Eric's supposedly impending move-out. And I begin to weep. I try to do it silently. Right on the other side of the wall I imagine the tv might be shaking with my supressed sobs, but the asshole playing videogames whil I'm trying to sleep doesn't care or doesn't notice.
Eventually a sniffle gets too loud, or my shaky breathing attracts Aaron's attention and he comes in, knowing something is very wrong. It was awful. It was embarassing, to be crying with Eric right there. It was awful. Aaron was very comforting and I apologized again and again for crying. He said I was probably sad becaus I'd come in and gone right to bed. I wanted to scream that WHAT OTHER OPTION DID I HAVE??? when my living room is infested with a person's presence that sucks all my joy and ease out of me. But I did not. I simply wept for a little bit and then stopped weeping. He kissed my forehead and rubbed my back and told me to go to sleep. I did. I fell to sleep thinking dark, unhealthy thoughts, and woke up feeling almost as tired as I had been before sleep, despite the fact that I'd slept like a stone. I didn't even stir when Aaron came to bed, a difficult feat considering my head's location at the top of the ladder and the fact that he has to climb over me to get into his spot in the bed.
Yeah. So, sure I went all irrational. I was tired. I recognize the smeagol-ness of some of my trains of thought last night. But that doesn't diminish my concern about the March 1st deadline. We shall see. Aaron is confident about it. I have to have faith.
Today is also Eric's birthday, so I also have to be extra nice.
I'm going out for a drink with a friend tonight, and wine and cheese at his place after that. Maybe I'll be able to unwind a little and relax some.
Do any of you ever have times where you just cry like that? Just nothing else seems possible until you've had that cry? Maybe I'm simply a lunatic and I need help.
Possibly I just really, really wanted macaroni and cheese.
Posts
1 comment:
I wish I could hug you. Or at least hire a hitman to take care of the situation ;) You didn't overreact and yes sometimes the only thing that helps is crying.
Don't worry, you'll feel better by Saturday night :)
Post a Comment