like sands through the hourglass....

I don't know what is going on lately, but I am about to choke my husband. Feel free to enter this into evidence as premeditation.

First of all, Wednesday we had a huge fight. H.U.G.E. I had dropped Elizabeth off at school, and then went and picked Marty up at work. She has to be at school at 7:40, Marty gets off his 24 hour shift at 7:30, and I don't have to be at work until 8:30. We needed some groceries, so what better plan than to go early in the AM so that the store is nearly empty? Get in and get out... plus and added bonus of spousal togetherness... Great plan!!

Well, my normally good natured husband is being an ass from the get go. I won't go into all the details, but he more or less called me irresponsible and incompetent. I got pissed and asked him to please just take me back to the office, because I didn't want to fight before having to go to work. He refused and said something to the effect of "The grown up way to handle this would be for you to suck it up, and lets go get groceries like big people." NO WAY!! I am NOT going to be a grown up about this!! irresponsible, incompetent, and now, immature. Nope. NOT going to suck it up and go pick ripe apples and lunchmeat with a flippin smile! NOT GONNA DO IT!! AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!!! *stomp* *stomp* *stomp*

So I did the totally mature thing, and got out of the durango and started walking back to the office. I figured it was only 2 miles and I had 30 minutes. I was FURIOUS. I am sure that comes from not ever really fighting. All my frustrations come out at once.

He was not really amused with my getting out and walking. Lets just leave it at that.

So, I get back in the durango and he takes me to work. As soon as I get to my desk, I take care of the problem that brought up the "irresponsible" tag. My boss comes in about two minutes later and asks me for a phone number. I tell him, "We don't have their home number on file." He gives me an exasperated look and says, "Natalie. I saw Mr. Customer at the post office last week and he gave me his number. I came back here, and gave it to you. Are you telling me you did not enter it in his file? What is the problem that you can't remember these small details?"

So I burst into tears. Let's see. Anyone else want to take a shot at me today? Can I hear a "fatass"? how 'bout a "bitch"? Anybody???

So that day goes well. And Thursday equally well. Then last night, Marty comes outside, where I am sitting reading the paper, and sits down and says, "I am sorry about yesterday. I had a really bad night. We had a bad wreck in town, and I was pulling a young girl out and I didn't think she was going to make it. I couldn't sleep all night. When this kind of things happen, it is hard for me to transition back to the stupid details of life, like groceries and bills."

Well, why the hell didn't you tell me that in the first place, instead of just yelling at me???

So we made up. And didn't have another fight until... 2 hours later.

Same old story. I came home and nothing had been done. He only has one kid at home now, Elizabeth is in school. Normally I just do the household chores and keep my mouth shut because it is not worth the fight. But I am having a yard sale this weekend, and specifically asked him to please try and help me around the house, because I have to spend every night after the kids go to bed cleaning out closets and pricing. Well, last night, I am pricing and pricing after we made up and the kids went to bed, and he is in here on the computer. I am doing laundry and he is on the computer. I never ate supper, so I asked him if there was any way he could make me a sandwich. "Uhhh... yeah, I guess... in a minute. You wouldn't BELIEVE what is going on on the board today!" (sound familiar?) So I go back to pricing and about 30 minutes later, I came back in the kitchen and said, "Are you please going to make me a sandwich?" and he never takes his eyes of the keyboard and said "I guess, but you are going to have to wash the skillet." I look over at the mound of dishes. Two sinkfulls, plus they are all over the counter and stove.

The pot that had simmered for 2 days suddenly reached the boiling point.

"You know, it would not flippin kill you to wash a flippin dish, Mr. STAY AT HOME DAD!!! If the tables were turned and I was the one to stay home, LIKE THAT WOULD EVER FLIPPIN HAPPEN, I would feel that it was my JOB to do the housework..."

"Natalie! I mowed the grass today!!"

"OH jeez, I am so sorry!! I didn't realize that you did GROUNDSKEEPING today!!" (Our yard is about 1/3 of an acre. No plants, no bushes, no weedeating.)

"You know, that is your problem, you don't think taking care of the yard is WORK!! You don't appreciate my efforts outside one BIT!"

"You are 100% correct on that count! I wish to hell someone would let me crack open a beer and ride around the yard on a modified golf cart, with only my own thoughts to accompany me! It's not WORK like you are making it out to be! Its not a PUSHMOWER. If we had a PUSHMOWER then I would understand your not doing the dishes."

"I wish you would stop harping about the damn dishes all the damn time! They only get washed twice a flippin week anyway!"

OH

MY

GOSH!!!

Is the sign of a stroke that your eye starts twitching at the same time that your brain actually gets HOT and feels like it is going to leak out of you ears? I may be having a stroke. Oh crap, and my face is going numb. He is going to feel really bad when I drop dead right in front of him just because he wouldn't wash a skillet.

"I cannot believe you just said that. I am freaking stunned here. I was these damn dishes every damn night, except for this week because I have not had TIME! I washed them Sunday while you watched the race, I washed them MONDAY while you watched Monster Garage, and I washed them TUESDAY while you were watching Oceans Twelve... (I remember all of this because each time I thought he might come help me since all he was doing was watching tv... HA!!)

"Whatever."

It went swiftly downhill from there. Maybe this is the 10 year itch. Or maybe I just need to get remedicated so that I don't care what the flip he does. But is that really fair? Like yesterday, I worked from 8:00 until 7:00. My boss is pissed about me taking off once a week to keep Colby and he said that I am starting to get "behind" and that "disturbs" him. So I came in early and left late every day this week, to totally catch up. I am stressed out. I want to be like Lynn's husband on Desperate Housewives and say, "I have decided. YOU are going back to work. Its MY turn to stay at home." (Can you tell that I REALLY identify with Lynn?)

It's funny, I hear all the time that the best man to marry is one that is once divorced. He has learned from his mistakes, and is determined not to repeat them with his new love. He has loved and fucked up and lost, and he never knew how much it would hurt.

Well, I will be damned if Marty is going to be someone else's GOOD husband!!