If you could read my mind, love...
When one doesn�t update in like forever, the mere thought of it becomes difficult and overwhelming because there is so much I want to write about. Plus, I�ve had so much catching up to do around the home. HA HA, that�s funny. My idea of catching up around the house:
Thursday: First day back. All pissy again because it was a return to the misery that is my life. Realizing that shit has got to change and it needs to start with me.
Friday: I don�t know. I think I washed some towels or something. Spent a good portion of the day hating my husband and wishing all kinds of bad things upon him.
Saturday: My sis in law Lily invited me to go swimming with her and her latest batch of foster kids at Camp Doucet. It�s a little Boy Scout camp hidden away in south Nashua that you�d never know about if you had no connection to Boy Scouts or Cub Scouts. The pool is in ground, Olympic size and a good 40+ years old. (It has memories because when I was a kid, my bro was in Cub Scouts and my dad was the Pack Master for a bit. They had an outing there one day and my dad decided to make a copy of the key. We spent the better portion of the summer of 1983 swimming illegally there until we got caught. That was when my dad was seeing Linda, my friend in NY, and we had *just* been talking about those days). It was a blast. We spent three hours non-stop in the pool. Minnie went into the deep end (8 feet) for the first time and did AWESOME. I�m so proud of her. Saturday night we drank and hung out with Nina and Co, which is very easy to do when liquored up. Of course, after a few beers Hub was all, �I love you, I want this to work� blah blah blah. In my head: � Shut the fuck up. My love for you is gone. You can say say say all day long but your actions speak louder than your words. Prick�. Know that Gordon Lightfoot song, �If you could read my mind�? That�s me.
Sunday: Went over to Caroline�s. Just to use the pool but ended up having a few brewski�s and some Xanax (which had me proclaiming �I love Caroline� all evening).
Monday: Beavis�s court date. Yay. He had to pay restitution to Wally World (okay, so *I* had to) and has to do ten hours of community service before August 15. Then the charges will be suspended for six months and dropped providing he stays out of trouble. Which he�d better, or I�ll be in trouble (for seriously assaulting the little fucker). Beavis�s big observation: �That judge was an asshole�. My reply: �Judges are always assholes. It�s their job. I suggest avoiding having to deal with them as much as possible�.
Was it wrong that when the judge asked if I was concerned about the fact that he stole condoms, I said no? He seemed a little perturbed with me on that one. Oh well. I got my brownie points back when he asked about the consequences at home and I gave him the rundown of Beavis�s punishment. How the fuck could I not punish his ass? Especially with my brother�s history.
Moving on.
Thursday morning, our first morning back, as we came in around 10 pm Wednesday, we had a visitor at our door. A kitty. She was sitting on our porch meowing. Now, there�s like no cats around here, so it was a bit out of the ordinary. Turns out, Butthead had been feeding her for the day or so he was back before us. What a kitty. She had personality out the wazoo and was so cute. The kids named her Shelly (from the Mad TV sketch, Michael McDonald plays this creepy guy in a sweatsuit, can�t remember his name, but he says �Come on Shell-ay� and the boys say it a lot) and we bought her some food and a brush. We�d let her in from time to time too. Just when I was at the point where I was ready to ask the landlord if we could keep her, we got a �Lost Cat� notice in the mailbox. It was Shelly, only her name is Ginger. I called right away yesterday, and the woman who owns her and her daughter showed up yesterday afternoon. The woman�s name? Michelle, but everyone calls her Shelly.
Anyway, our kitty went home. The kids were bummed. Then Beavis came home from his friend�s house with an injured baby chickadee he found in the road. He�s been beside himself with this bird. It�s adorable. Her leg is broken and she can�t fly. We can�t feed her cuz the idea of chewing up worms and spitting them in her mouth is sorta gross. And when the chickadees in the trees do their little whistle, she cries to them. Poor thing. I don�t know what to do. I doubt the Humane Society will do anything, either.
Now for the crappy part, my fucking marriage. Ugh. This isn�t a plea for sympathy because I put myself where I am and I�m stuck and it�s nobody�s fault but mine (sing those last four words like Led Zep cuz I did).
As far as �dissolving the business�, nothing of the sort happened. Because he will not. Linda and Chuck made an offer to help us out and organize it, because they believe in Hub, and I was willing to go along with it at first, because everything is rosey on vacation. Plus, they can tell him the same shit I do, and he might listen to them. And he did. Listening is one thing, putting it into practice is a completely different animal. Especially for Hub. (After coming home, I called Linda and told her �forget it�).
Ie; his habit of not taking down payments. He was told ad nauseum that that�s important for cash flow. It also ensures that you�ll at least get paid for that. Why can he not get this? Because Saturday night, while I was full of beer, he told me about a job he was starting Monday. I asked if he got half up front. �No, it�s only labor� he said, �They�re paying for the materials�. I went off on him. �Your labor is worth half up front. Your labor is worth just as much as the materials. Look at the waterfall you built. That was not built by materials but by your labor. Stop being Mr Nice Guy and insist on getting paid up front and earn some respect from these people�.
But does he listen to me? No. I�m just a bitch to him. Well, whatever. Two can play that, and if I�m nothing but a bitch, then that�s what I�ll be. When he doesn�t communicate with me, like yesterday when he asked on the spot if I went to the bank and got him some money for gas. I told him I was not aware that he needed money for gas and he should have told me earlier in the day. I�m not your douchebag on the spot anymore. So, I didn�t get his gas money.
In NY, our friends were all, �You really need to communicate with each other�. Hub was all over that. �Yes, yes we do�. Does he? No. Well, I mean he communicates to me somewhat but is not so much with the receiving end of it. He also neglects to tell me very important shit that I need to know about, and I find out about it the hard way.
Again, that Gordon Lightfoot song. He doesn�t ever want to hear how I truly feel, and you know what? Fuck him. Fuck him and his fucking kids and his business.
Sure he loves me. I have no doubt about it. Without me, he can�t make it. Well, I�m sure he could find another broad to help him out. But as for me? I love him, but at this point, it�s a family/friend love. Without a doubt I know that I�m not �in love� with him, as cheesy and clich� as that is. I�m just stuck. I need to get through this next month or so until school starts and then get a job and get my own situation in order. I got myself into this and I need to get myself out.
And he�s not a �bad� guy. He really isn�t. He�s got flaws out the wazoo (who doesn�t), and they are ones that I just can�t live with anymore.
Before I left, I asked him to do just a few things for me. Nothing big at all. He was all macho, daddy, swinging his dick around �I�ll take care of everything�.
I asked him to water my two fuschia plants, and before he left for NY to give them to Arlene (Big Eric�s mom) next door since I�d already arranged with her to water them. He never watered them (�It rained all week!!!� except for a few days when it was hot and in the 90�s here) and never gave them to Arlene. So, I came home to dead plants. I was pissed. Petty, sure, but to me it�s a telling of how he feels about little things that are important to me. Because I was pissed, it was an inconvenience for him. I�m a bitch for getting mad that my plants were dead. Fine.
I asked him to show Butthead, not tell him, show him, because I know how his LD�s work and he is a hands on learner, where NOT to mow on our lawn, as I want to grow out a part of it by the woods. I�ve been making this clear since this spring, when I decided to grow it out. Two seconds, show the kid. Not that he couldn�t notice that part of the lawn was two feet higher than the rest of it. But, of course, Hub merely told him and what happened? Kid mowed it.
It sounds petty, but really, he couldn�t take a few seconds and just show the kid? Knowing it was important to me, he didn�t care. Again, I�m a bitch for being mad about it.
The best was that stupid laptop from Rent-a-Center. The one he got after we had a big fight one day and he wanted to shut me up. Look at me, I�m a great guy, I got you a laptop. Except, it�s from RAC. Which means, it becomes another chore for me, since I�m the one who had to go down and pay it every week. Yeah, nice gift. We can�t afford it, and all it did was keep me online more than I needed to be. Yeah, you�re a fucking peach.
So, I asked him to pay RAC for two weeks. Did he? Absolutely fucking not. Why? �I didn�t have any money�. Yeah fucking sure. He had money to spend $388 at Sam�s Club, and he had money to pick up a bag of weed, and he came to NY with $600, but no $70 for RAC.
So, I came home to roughly fifteen messages from RAC, and Butthead said they�d even been by to pick it up. And I decided you know what? Fuck him. When they showed up Saturday morning, I handed it right over to them. Here�s what I think of your �shut the fuck up, Jackie� gifts. So, no more laptop. Oh well!
And his excuse for not doing the other stuff? �I was busy! I had to take care of all kinds of things!�. But. He had time to go over Dave and Debbie�s next door for a nice steak dinner and beers, he had time to hang with the guys at Mike�s house, and he had time to visit with Andrea and Willy. Just not the entire cumulative half hour to do anything I asked him to.
That speaks volumes to me. Which, fine. I know where I stand and I�m okay with it. Let�s just say that he can expect the same level of respect because I am sick and fucking tired of being the dutiful wife.
Dutiful this.
Okay and another best part? The part that makes me realize I am not such a bad step mom for thinking Daisy is a hell child? Because she IS. Our friends in NY have respectfully asked for her not to come back ever again. She was a little douchebag the whole time, acting bossy and diva-ish and in general out of control, mean to the little kids there, and Linda does not want her back. To which I say, YAY! No more vacations with her.
Anyway, I�m out. I suppose I have to deal with crap around here.