new raspberry; �HATES technological I am sick to death of erectile dysfunction, pass the tampons please |
Updates! Updates! Updates! Updates! Updates! Updates! Sorry I�ve been gone so long. I�d say, �Me bad,� but I�ve actually been good. I go to my AA meetings M-W-F like clockwork. I see my therapist once or twice a month depending upon how our schedules mesh. I�m actually accomplishing most of the goals she and I laid out back in our second session. Complaints that Ms., aka my better half, has about me: �I spend far too much time on the computer. What, she thinks all these websites get updated just by osmosis? Ok, she�s a little bit right there about the amount of time I spend staring at the monitor. So maybe I don�t have to update them all so often. So that�s one of the reasons for a lack of frequent updates to this site. She wins, I win. �I stay up until all hours of the night (on the computer). Well, it�s summer for cryin� out loud, I don�t have to get up at the crack of dawn to get The Kid off to school in the morning so yeah, I�m going to enjoy being able to stay up late and sleep-in in the morning. Buzz! Wrong answer! �I�m tired of going to bed alone.� Yup, she�s got a point there. So the effort is made to go to bed at the same time. But ya know, the pendulum is not going to swing all the way over to all her-all the time. So I have a couple of late nights which she immediately begins to bitch about. When I point out that I�m not going to bed as freakin� early as she does every night and I will have some late nights she gets huffy and wants to know how many. I�m thinkin� Friday & Saturday nights lend themselves well to late nights since there is no school the next day, so I say two late nights, but I am still not going to bed at the ungodly gosh-I�m-a-workaholic-with-no-personal-life hour of 8:30 and that I think a reasonable bedtime is at 10:35, just after the local nightly news. She agrees. See, it�s all compromise. She wins, I win. Some of my complaints about Ms., aka my better half: �Work-a-fucking-holic. All work, all the time. She goes to work at the crack of dawn and comes home well after �normal� business hours. Calls co-workers in the evening, not for social chit-chat for work talk. Can�t even take a vacation day without answering her work provided cell phone, calling into the office, or logging on to work web mail. I listen to a run down of her day every day. It used to be 30 minutes, maybe an hour at most. Lately it�s an hours-long monologue of every single minute of her day. She just can�t let it go. Leave it at the office. Move on for Christ�s sake. The day is done; there are no do-overs. �OCD. This was manageable when she was on drugs. She quit them back in January 2004 and they are back, badder than ever. She watches the show Monk and doesn�t see ANYTHING WRONG WITH HIS BEHAVIOR! Hello!!!! The lights are on but nobody�s home! �Control Freak. One of the things my therapist said we need to do is have some �date nights� that are just for us, without the kid and friends. Time to ourselves. So I�ve been buying concert tickets and such. This last one took place on a school night. Now keep in mind that The Kid is thirteen and we will only be an hour away. We�re talking about him babysitting smaller children for a friend of ours, yet she wants me to get him a babysitter for this night. Huh? We can�t trust him with himself, but we want our friend to trust him with her five and three-year-old kids? Can ya see me cocking my head to the side like Nipper the dog? On nights with no school the next day, we would send him off to spend the night with one of his buddies. School nights the friend that I cat sit for would normally come over and stay with him, but she�s out of town on business. So I arrange for the older sister of The Kid�s best friend to come and basically sit on my couch and eat my Pringles while The Kid plays Diablo II on the internet all night. This is not good enough for Ms., aka my better half. �We don�t know this girl. What if she brings other teenagers over, steals from us, tortures the animals?� Ok, I made up that last bit, you get the picture. The situation degenerates into a screaming cat fight that ends with me saying I will cancel the babysitter I arranged and she can stay home while I go to the concert alone. Before I leave to go cancel the sitter and cry on my best friend�s shoulder, more invective is poured my way in which I discover that I am the reason for every major thing that has gone wrong in our lives for the past 10 years and I won�t go into those things here as that will make this entry a candidate for the Too Fucking Long category. I�ll just say I disagree with 99% of it. Later that night when all is quiet and she is silently flipping channels faster than most testosterone laden channel flippers can flip and I am typing as quietly as I possibly can on my keyboard, she says, �I THINK WE SHOULD LEAVE HIM HERE ALONE WHILE WE GO TO THE CONCERT.� At which point I am convinced that she is trying to drive me insane. Either that or she wants me to come and beat the living shit out of her so she can call the police and have me locked up for assault. �Baby powder. Freakin� baby powder sprinkled everywhere in the bathroom. I�m all for freshness and being comfortable, but when you share a bathroom with someone, especially someone who wears as much black as I do, it�s rude to liberally apply a white powdery substance to your body in such a manner as to cover every horizontal surface of the bathroom with that substance which subsequently gets all over the person who�s wearing all black the second she walks into the bathroom. I have tried to point out the problem nicely and I have screamed about it at the top of my lungs, neither option has worked. So, I practice my Serenity Prayer. I cannot change this thing, yet it is a thing I find intolerable. So, in a house with four bathrooms, why don�t I just move to another bathroom and not have to deal with it anymore. Never mind that the whole point of being partners is to share and compromise. If I can�t get her to compromise then I have to try another tack. So while she was on her last business trip, I moved all my bathroom shit upstairs. It was like a great weight had lifted off my shoulders and I couldn�t wait to tell my therapist about the solution I had found to the issue. When Ms., aka my better half returned, she asked where all my bathroom stuff was and I gently explained that the baby powder situation had just become unbearable and that since she wasn�t able to do anything to alleviate the problem, I thought it might be better if I just used a different bathroom. The very next day she says, �Hey, I have an idea! How about if I start putting the powder on in the shower? Then it won�t get all over the bathroom?� Doh!!!!!!!!!! She couldn�t have thought of this before I was ready to go ape-shit all over her powdered white ass? WTF? Lest you think we are hopeless and petty and doomed to failure, I�ll end this entry saying that she has an appointment with a therapist this coming Tuesday. She agrees that I am not the only person here who has issues that need to be resolved with counseling. Amen. Hallelujah.
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