Words, Words, Words, Words

So the husband had a funeral to go to today. He trots off, I do whatever it was I was doing this morning, then get dressed to go to the gym, make sure Charlie has his game boy as he is off this week and I've no one to watch him today, and head out only to realise the husband took my car. He has a truck that a)I can't drive, b)I'd be afraid to drive and c)I haven't got the keys to. So I can't get to the gym. Or anywhere else for that matter until he comes home.

The worst part is I managed to leave my purse in the car yesterday. I wanted to take Charlie to see "Meet the Robinsons" but now, even if I found someone to go with and got a ride I couldn't, because I haven't got any money.

I don't know why he didn't ask if I needed the car. He almost always does, especially when it's 9pm and I'm in my jammies and it is painfully obvious I'm not going anywhere. Why he thought I wouldn't want my car in the middle of the bloody day is a mystery.

I had a dream about sharks last night. And also that I'd cut my hair really short and dyed it blonde. Not sure which was worse.

Here's a photo of me as a witch doing my witch thing. Because I am bored.

Who the heck would want more than one spouse? One is aggravating enough for me, thank you very much.

Why, I hear you ask, do I mention this? Well, if you must know, it is because my husband is freaking annoying.

He has jury duty today in Camden which is only about 10 minutes away from us, tops. He had to be there at 8:15, so he's still hanging around the house when I am going through my morning routine which basically consists of drinking my coffee, eating some breakfast, taking the dishes out of the dishwasher then checking both my home and work email to see if anything important has come up. In other words, I wasn't dressed and ready to go out, and Charlie was still sleeping. It was a little bit after seven when he says to me that he thinks he'll take the 'speedline' into Camden, as he doesn't want to take his truck in, because it has a rejected inspection sticker on it, and he doesn't want to bring it to 'cop town'. So fine. I nod blearily at him and continue to pour my coffee.

Around 7:40 he says cryptically, "My truck has a lot of equipment in it, and I don't want to leave it."

I wait for him to finish this thought and when he doesn't I prompt him with an admittedly bitchy, "and?"

"And I need you to drive me to the station," he says in a tone of voice that indicates this should have been obvious.

I'm still in my jammies at this point, Charlie is still asleep, and I'm annoyed at the interruption of my morning routine, so I wasn't gracious about it, and I point out that I have to get dressed and wake up Charlie and get him dressed.

Because I didn't acquiesce sweetly and kindly, and rather grumbled about this, he says, in tones of injured martyrdom I should forget it and he'll call a cab. I say, or, you know, shout, that I will drive him, it just can't be this minute, so does he have to leave right now, and he shouts back that he does have to leave and forget it he'll walk and storms out of the house before I have a chance to respond.

( rest of the story under the cut because I did ramble and rant quite a bit )

Two interviews today - one for a part time job, and another for a full time job that I don't think will pay enough, but is worth at least looking into.

I didn't get any sleep last night. Just tense and physically uncomfortable by turns. When I finally did fall asleep I had weird dreams.

Then husband calls just now and mentions some bills we need to pay. It is irrational, but I don't want to have to deal with them. Why can't he just do it? I know I'm home, and I can do it, I just don't want to. I don't want to think any more, you know?

Sigh.

Must get dressed now.

I suppose I could pound a few more words out on my story, but I'm a bit too tired for that. Problem is my back hurts and I can't get comfortable, and my husband just totally snarked at me because I was trying to get comfortable, and half the reason I couldn't get comfortable was because I was trying not to wake him up even though he never seems to care when he flips over so hard he practically jiggles me out of bed. Plus I'm so sick of him getting so extremely cross when stuff like this happens. I can't ever get mad at him, but he's allowed to bitch at me.

Sometimes being married is hard.

And my back really hurts. Whine whine.

ETA: When I was 15 years old I spent the summer with my friend in California, and we would quite often stay up until the wee hours of the morning watching this new channel called Mtv hoping to catch and Adam Ant or Loverboy video, and many times we would have snacks of bologna and cheese sandwiches*, and so sometimes when I'm up at night I get the worst craving for that sandwich. Like now. I really want a bologna and cheese sandwich on white bread with mustard. Sadly, I don't have any bologna in the house.

*or Rocky Road ice cream

I left work at noon today because, seriously, I was drooping at my desk.

So I came home, got in my comfy sweat-suit, had some lunch, and sat on my couch and dozed a bit in front of the telly. Saw an awesome show on the Logo channel - it's called "First Comes Love" and it's one of those reality/documentary type shows where the show people help a couple plan their wedding. Since this is the Logo channel, the couples are all same-sex couples and since it is about same-sex couples getting legally married, it takes place in Canada. It is hosted by Scott Thompson, formerly of Kids in the Hall. The gay one. No not that one, the other one. I cried through practically the whole show. My cold makes my overly sensitive nature even more sensitive, and it was really sweet and romantic and I'm a sucker for that sort of thing. So sue me.

The ceremony was really nice - the officiant declared them 'married wives' which I thought was a nice way to replace the 'man and wife' bit.

( cut for self-pity party )

Sad, isn't it, how the day flies by when one is home and on one's comfy couch and not at work? Time is such an elastic measurement.

Congratulations to chavvah who finished her Master's Thesis. (Why couldn't her Master do his own thesis? ba dum bum)

All this typing has made me feel light-headed, so I think I'll go lie down. Not really. I think I was just channeling Ferris Buller for a moment there.

My husband is sick. He says I'm very unsympathetic to him when he is sick, and I am, but it's because he moans around like he's at death's door, and if I pity him too much he'll slip into a coma.

It isn't fair of me, but there you go. He has what Charlie had, only with more whining. He says it's the flu, but as it isn't quite flu season yet, I'm pretty certain it's the viral infection that is going around. The big baby. And then he never goes to the doctor, which pretty much ensures if he has something it's going to get worse and he's going to give it to me and/or Charlie.

I suppose part of my resentment lies in the fact that when I get sick I don't get to lie about all day moaning.

Meanwhile I'm still internally squeeing over my Terry Pratchett encounter yesterday. It was way cool. He put '333' in my Good Omens book. Thought that was funny.

Anyway, off to bring the big baby some Gatorade. More later!

I don't know why, but things just went downhill on me when I got home this evening.

Started out okay - Husband was home earlier than usual - he had a training thing and it ended early, so that was nice. It was early, it was a nice day, I thought maybe we could all do something, but husband was tired because last night he had a long evening of playing with his band and then going out for beer, so he fell asleep on the couch. Despite the fact I've pointed out to him, citing examples from numerous learned people, he doesn't believe me that you can't catch up on sleep, and that you should really just deal with being tired one day and then go to bed at your usual hour. Of course he doesn't have a usual hour, because he's constantly staying out late like a teenager with no curfew and then sleeping til noon whenever he can. So, he naps, I let him, I start defrosting chicken and sit down to watch a rerun of the Simpsons and read more of Hitchhiker's Guide.

He wakes up about an hour later, and says how he feels great and then snarks at me that I should not wake him up when he naps because he feels so good now. Whatever. So he wakes up then goes upstairs to check his email or something. I get the chicken out of the microwave, shake-n-bake it, and stick it in the oven. Then I decide that I'm going to go outside and start emptying the stupid bloody truck that has been sitting, broken down, in our driveway since January, despite numerous promises that it is going to be taken care of 'this week, I just have to clean it out.' So I shout that I'm going out to start the cleaning and again he snarks at me not to touch it and he'll do it. Like there's something valuable in the truck I might break or something.

I swear, the thing looks like a giant, truck shaped skip. It's full of paper and trash and the occasional rusty tool. Fine. Whatever. But you know what? I'm sick of the thing sitting in our driveway making us look like hillbillies. It was worse when he had two broken down trucks in the driveway. All it needed was a Camaro up on blocks and the picture was complete. So I'm fed up, and I snark that if it isn't gone by the end of the weekend, I'm calling someone. And he tells me to, and this is an exact quote, shut the fuck up. In front of Charlie. He does this alot.

Apparently I'm not allowed to have any opinions or feelings or anything that might actually contridict his. I'm not allowed to be annoyed at rusting trucks in my driveway or the fact that I spent a large hunk of Mother's Day driving to New Egypt to get another truck and didn't even get a bouquet of flowers or a card, or even a "Happy Mother's Day." He said it to the guy we bought the truck from, but not me.

And I knew we had to go get the truck, but it would be nice if he acknowledged the fact it was something I didn't want to do and was cutting into a day that (and I don't ask for much, really) could at least offer me a stupid Hallmark card.
:
So, I'm upset, and don't feel like getting into a shouting match, because it never ends well, so Charlie and I go for a walk, and he plays on a playground, and I feel better, and we find butter cups on the way home, and i showed Charlie that, if you hold them up to your chin they'll reflect yellow. He thought that was pretty cool, and it made me smile because I realised I was passing on a bit of my own childhood to him.

However, the god of annoying things wasn't done with me yet, and when we got home I was watering my flowers and did one of those stupid sitcom things where I was carrying two pitchers of water outside, and when i tried to set one down, I spilled the other one all over the front porch. Later I spilled water on my end table, broke a fingernail when I was emptying the dishwasher and dropped a plate which smashed into lots of tiny pieces. (taking a carton of salt with it, lots of spilled salt on the floor.)

And tomorrow is Friday the 13th.

So for whatever reason Charlie was really fighting against doing his homework, and I had to take his Gamecube away because he was totally freaking out - its a long story. Anyway, He grabs his gameboy, and I was kind of in the middle of something, and wasn't really pushing it, and my husband grabbed the gameboy out of Charlie's very resisting hand and he broke the gameboy. So now of course Charlie is completely freaked out, I yell at husband because basically the reason the thing broke is because he, husband, lost his temper, and now I'm totally annoyed. Charlie said he wants a different daddy. He also said Daddy had to go to jail, which made me giggle.

Anyway, I think he's forgiving his daddy now, but I'm totally annoyed and trying not to start an argument with husband, so I just thought I'd vent here. Done now.