Meh. That’s my current mood. A thousand and one screaming, converging, twisting, rampant emotions singled up into one lump word. Meh.
It’s 10:30 at night. I’m sitting in bed, supposedly trying to sleep because I have to open the restaurant solo tomorrow and put a truck order away. My brain can’t relax and tune things out. I’m up. My stomach feels like some one poured a vat of grease down my throat and now some where between my colon and my esophagus it is bubbling and turning. Definitely putrid.
I hate my stomach. If I am too upset over something or too excited about something my stomach likes to let me know that it doesn’t appriciate the high voltage of emotions. Curse of the empath.
This weekend has been less than ideal. I know not every day is gonna be a 5 star day. I know life is full of every twist and turn imaginable. I prefer to stay positive about things. I make a terrible gloom and doom chick. As my usually perky self I tend to shine.
Like I said though, not so bright and shiney this week. Oh I’ll get over it and move on. Just gimme tonight to wallow in it so I can be on point for tomorrow.
The Man. He’s been on a drinking binge since Friday. I get it. Really I do. He’s worked 21 days straight. This weekend off is his chance to unwind in whatever manner he chooses and he is the kind of man that kicks back with a bottle of brandy. Usually this is no problem for me expect…
When you have one drunk person and one sober person it is easy to spot the problem. Neither person is on level with the other. During the days that hubby is hard at work, I pull out all the little stops to let him know that I appriciate him and love the guts outta him. He’s big into food. Seriously. Loves it. Has the food personality of some one who has been deprived of food and starved for periods of his life. I know the behavior all too well. My adopted brothers were starved during the time they lived with their bio parents and their parents were more concerned about buying drugs than feeding their kids. A lot of how The Man pays attention to food reminds me of my brothers. Anyways… so even though I hate to cook, I make damned sure The Man has plenty of dinner options when he gets home from work. Bread and butter just isn’t going to cut it.
Also there is the house, it ain’t gonna clean itself, but neither is The Man. With 3 kids, 3 cats, one dog things can go from immaculate museuem quality to the hoarder down the street QUICK. Much of my free time is spent cleaning the house. The Man, he never cleans the house. I’m okay with this. He works his ass off. Its another way of me saying I love you. “Your time is valuable. Let me worry about cleaning.”
When he works late and I get up before him I keep the bedroom door closed. I don’t do the laundry (machines are too noisy), and I make sure the house is at a quiet volume so as not to wake him up. He deserves his sleep. A well rested hubby has a better chance of being a happy hubby.
Okay you get the point… little things…
Saturday morning when The Man woke up he was still drunk from the night before. Ugh. He some how managed to hurt his eye while he slept. Just try I implore you, to have the patience to deal with a blind drunk. It isn’t easy. I offered to bring him to the ER. He refused. Instead he bumbled around slamming into everything, needing my assistance at every turn.
We have this deal when I work late nights where The Man isn’t supposed to drink liquor, but its cool if he drinks beer. The reason for this rule is because his snoring under the influence of whiskey, brandy, and hard liquor in general shakes the bed and it is impossible for me to sleep through it. Saturday night I worked. Saturday night The Man drank brandy while being a complete slob, trashed the kitchen and living room, and then snored like an orge all night. My sleep wasn’t good.
This morning he stumbled out of the room, had himself an Irish breakfast, and left the door open. Not only had I just fallen asleep, but I was woken up way too early by the kids, the cats, the hubby.
Turns out he promised the kids he would take them out for breakfast. He had to take it back because he has enough sense not to drive. Then he volunteered me to drive. Okay. Whatever. That’s fine. I’m up now anyways. I get dressed, wipe off the make up I accidentally fell asleep wearing (because who wants to look like Courtney Love at breakfast). As I putting on my shoes The Man starts making up some asinine argument about I could have just said “no.”. Wtf. I wasn’t even complaining. Turns out he didn’t want to go so instead he wanted to make it look like I was being the pissy one. I can not stand when people put words in my mouth or tell me how to feel about something. If you don’t want to do something just say it. How was I supposed to know he did not want to go?
The whole day went on like this. By 2 pm, I couldn’t wait to go to work.
The thing that sucks about it all is that now I am grumpy as hell and irritated with my best friend. I get that he’s an adult, he just worked a big stretch, and he wants to enjoy his time in his own way. Really. I get that. However it just stings because now I won’t be able to spend time with him and I’m annoyed at him. Guess the space might be good after all. I would rather avoid a fight.
So my plan for the week is simple. I’m gonna do me. Keep the focus on exercising every day. Plan out meals for the week so I can stick to my diet. Spend loads of time with Hoshi Akari and Bobo. Visit Snooch. I won’t worry about my emotions. Some times its just better to go through the motions.