I'm an unappreciative douche.

I've been grumpy this week.  And bitchy and mean and impatient.  I don't mean to be that way, it's just that I'm so itchy right now I would claw myself out of my skin for one day alone.  Thing about me is that I need a lot of time to myself.  I need it the way some people need alone time with their spouse or friends.  I need it the way I need air or water.  If I don't have enough time to myself, I don't process things and they keep bouncing around inside my skull until I'm half mad with them.  Think I'm exaggerating?  I'm not.  I never write this much.

I really am itchy, too.  I need some time alone so badly I can feel it and it makes me do stupid things like bite my nails and fingers and wrists.  I've tried subtle hints.  I've tried outright saying it.  But since no one around me (my husband and parents) understands what I'm going through, they just think I'm being weird and melodramatic again.  They love people and talking and being social.  I love quiet and thinking, and this lack of that is shutting me down.  My house is a disaster and it takes everything I have to so much as get in the shower.  Maybe if I quit showering I'd stink so badly that everyone would leave.  At this point, it's worth consideration.

In any case, between the husband's vacation and visiting family, I haven't had any significant time alone in my own home since before Christmas.  He's back to work now, but by the time he goes in, I have maybe an hour or so before I need to go to bed.  That or be exhausted and not really get what I need anyway.  Last night he and the kid went to bed reasonably early and I thought I'd get a few good hours in, but nope--he woke up.

"Let's watch a movie!"

I wish I had a picture of my face.  I thought about stabbing him, but I just went to bed, instead.

I can go out, but that's not really the same.  Going out means I'm surrounded by other people.  Sure, they're not talking to me, but they're there.  The only people I want to be around are the ones who live in my computer.  That's cool.  Face to face?  Not so much.  Also, going out means I need to limit myself to socially acceptable activities.  No talking to myself, no singing, no outbursts.  No fun.  No getting out everything I need to get out from the last month.

The final straw was that both my husband and my mother disappointed me this weekend.  The husband was supposed to the kid to the movies yesterday.  Cool.  Including travel time, popcorn line, and previews, I thought I was looking at a good two hours.  Maybe even two and a half.  Then he decided he didn't want to go because she's already seen all the kids' movies that are showing.  I pointed to the theater an hour away that was showing some My Little Pony extravaganza.  "She hasn't seen that!"  He definitely didn't take me up on that one.  "Take her to see Tangled again," I suggested, "You know she'll sit through that."  No luck.  Instead he showered me with the worst words possible.

"Why don't I give you the money and you can take her?"

You.  Asshole.  Seriously?  You really think that's what I'm saying?  Guess so, 'cause he didn't take her.  I ended up sitting at the supermarket for most of the day, alone, but not, and feeling very sorry for myself.  At least she was really bad for him.

Then there's today.  My mom was supposed to take her today, but now she's not.  No real reason, she just doesn't feel up to it.  Which in and of itself is fine--I know my mother (unlike my husband) owes me nothing in regards to watching my child, except that we've talked about it all week and she knew how excited I was.  Guess it doesn't matter anyway, because my husband is awake and expecting me to cook and of course the good computer is all his.

Being so angry and frustrated over this makes me feel like the shittiest person alive.  For one thing, it makes me distant.  I desperately seek out ever minute, every second that I can be by myself.  I avoid my family like they're lepers, ducking into the bathroom or kitchen or wherever I can.  Douchy as he's been, my poor husband is really concerned about the state of my bowels.  I can buy myself a good 15 minutes by pretending to poop.  I've been a shitty mother and an even shittier wife, but this could have all been fixed by now if he'd just taken her to see a fucking movie.

The other thing is that I know there are so many people out there who miss their spouses or are lonely or would otherwise love to have my problem.  And it makes me feel heartless and unappreciative.  I really do love my family.  I really do love having them around.  But I really, really need some time to let everything inside of me out.  Then I question if I really have a problem or if I'm just making something out of nothing.  If I should just be happy to be surrounded by people who love me.  The problem isn't them, it's me.  Okay, fine, but the problem is there.  If it wasn't, my ears wouldn't burn and sting every time I hear my name and my skin wouldn't crawl every time someone touches me.  So yeah, selfish as it is, it is a problem.  I wish I could be one of those people who loves being around others, but I'm 28 and it's never been that way.  Instead, I'll just bitch here and hold out hope for next weekend.  With any luck, I won't have exploded by then.

A Good Day

Good things happened today.  For one thing, I got an adequate amount of sleep.  That alone works wonders for my outlook in life.

That wasn't the best thing, though.  My new phone came.  This is good because I scared my phone away like a month and a half ago and haven't seen it since.  Seriously, one moment I was talking on it, the next it was gone.  I have a feeling the minime hid it somewhere, but I've yet to discover where.  So, now I have a new one and I can talk to people and avoid calls from my mom again.  However, this still isn't the best part.

My husband finally disposed of the spider carcass that's been under a glass on my floor since around Halloween.  I know how wrong that sounds, so I guess I'll try to explain it.  A week of so before Halloween, I noticed a large and particularly menacing spider running across my livingroom floor.  I didn't have anything flammable to counterattack it with, but I'm pretty resourceful and quickly came up with an alternative plan:  I got my child to top it with a glass, so my husband could deal with it later.  Except he kept forgetting to deal with it.  Eventually, I sort of scooted the whole glass into a corner so I could just clean my floors around it.  And there it stayed until today, when my husband finally decided to pay attention to me and deal with it.  Okay, I guess that really didn't make it sound any better, but there's no sense in using the backspace key now.  I wonder how long it stayed alive under there.  I sort of feel bad about causing something such a horrific end, but I'm also pretty sure it was a scout trying to gather information for their plot to destroy me.  Knowing that makes me feel completely justified.  Anyway, the body removal was almost the best part of my day, but not quite.

The best thing?  I found the world's biggest box of frozen blueberry waffles!  There's 40 of them!  That should last me the better part of the week!  I had two for dinner (still frozen) and I'm thinking that in the morning I may toast a couple for my favorite sandwich.  This involves two toasted blueberry waffles, a slice of provolone and three slices of extra crispy thick cut bacon.  It's pretty much an orgasm for your mouth.

A few other notably awesome things happened today, too.

--I took the child to the grocery store childcare, but I did not shop.  Instead I drank coffee and hogged a Hershey's with almonds bar all to myself.  I spent a lot of time on a new idea I had, which may or may not grow legs and appear here in the future.  Depends if I can get the appropriate software and how much I want to embarrass myself.

--The child asked her father why he's not as handsome as Flynn Rider.  The husband proceeded to get all butt hurt and insecure about it.  I'm torn between pointing out that it's a somewhat valid question and reassuring him that he is the more handsome.  His anxiety over this is really amusing, so I suppose I'll just keep quiet altogether and let him sweat about it.


--I got every last stitch of laundry in the house done.  That's not too big of a deal, but it's also put away!  That never happens.  Seriously, the only dirty clothes in my house are the ones on our bodies.  That makes me so happy I could pee my pants.  But then I'd have to wash them.

--I baked a pie.  Apple.  It's good and very aesthetically pleasing.

Given that it's only quarter to eight, I probably shouldn't jinx myself, but nothing bad has happened today.  It's been a very needed good day.  I have steaks thawing for morning dinner and I'll have extra time to myself tonight.  Perhaps I'll even have time for a haiku later!  On that note, I suppose I'll go catch up with my friends, play some video games, and prepare for tomorrow.  Today can't happen twice in a row, and something tells me tomorrow will make up for it.  That's just how my life works.

Our First Ten Minutes (My Perspective)

Wow.  I slept like the dead last night, and now I'm ready to go.  After the last two days, I guess I'm due for something fun, huh?  Okay.


She blinked twice, looking from the plate of food before her, to the man across from her, then back to the food, trying mostly in vain to clear any hint of confusion from her face.  His eyes were focused intently on her and it was making her increasingly uncomfortable.  And now he was saying something.

She fiddled with her napkin.  "I'm sorry, what?"

If he noticed her discomfort at this rather random turn of events, he didn't show it.  "I tweaked the recipe a bit," he repeated.  "I hope you like it." 

Super!  The girl forced her eyes not to roll, and glanced back up at the recipe tweaking stranger before her.  He wasn't particularly attractive.  He wasn't ugly or anything either, just not someone she'd have looked back at.  The thing that really caught her eye was his bright orange hair.  This interested her.  Shooing those thoughts aside, she ran through a mental checklist again.

Work?  No.  School?  Um...no.  Church...?  He seemed to know her, seemed to know her well enough to sit down uninvited and stare at her chest at least, but she could not figure out who he was.  She teeters back and forth trying to decide if it's more rude to admit she has no idea who he is or to just go on pretending she knows.  And again she catches herself paying no attention to what he's saying.

She's also unable to eat.  Years of food issues have rendered it difficult to eat in front of others and impossible to eat in front of some stranger.  If anyone was rude, it was him.  Who just sits down with someone they don't even know when she's trying to eat?  But, he seems to know you, she reminded herself, completely puzzled and starting to become irritated and--

Oh shit, he just asked her another question.  She had no idea what it was and decided to just go ahead and ask him who the hell he is.  But before she could, he realized something was wrong.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired and--"

"Well, I really gotta get back there, I just wanted to see how you've been.  Maybe I'll call you this week."

"Um, okay?"  She is thoroughly puzzled as the fact that he has her phone number sinks in.  She doesn't even answer her phone, much less give out the number, so how does he have it?  As he headed back to work, she shook her head and made a mental note to avoid this restaurant until she could remember who this guy is and why he has her phone number.  She finally lifted her fork to eat her now cold food, absolutely no idea that in less than a year she and this orange haired, nosy, recipe tweaking, semi-annoying master of confusion would share a home.

A Day Off!

I started typing this sometime around 7AM, with full intention of bragging about my day off, bought about by the ill health of my poor child.  Turns out, it couldn't be farther from a day off, hence my deletion of the whole three sentences I'd typed over five hours ago.  Serves me right, I suppose.

There's nothing like family illness to bring out the annoying in my husband.  He's been on vacation all week.  For him, this is a much deserved break.  For me, it's more cooking, more cleaning, more laundry.  Awesome.  With the kid being sick, he's at full panic.  I like to think that if you cross bred a monkey and a rhino and raised it to be a crack addict, you'd know what my husband is like when he's been home too long and our kid is sick.  In his world, it can just be a cough or a fever or a runny nose.  No, nothing common and every day at all.  Clearly, she's suffering from the plague.

On one hand, this has been of great benefit to both the child and myself.  Right now, he's will to make as many trips to Super Walmart Center as necessary to ensure her continued breathing and/or happiness.  This is how I got an economy sized box of frozen waffles, plus it's gotten him out of the house for several hours.  Those hours were broken up in to approximately 20 minute increments, but this is stupendous, none the less.  I keep planting little "needs" in her mind.  I'm a horrible person.

On the other hand, he's being really irritating.  I just took her temperature.  You want to know if it's changed a fraction of a degree?  Take it again yourself!  Yes, she's had her fluids, yes, she's had her medicine.  Stop barking orders at me from the living room and come in here if you need something.  And make your own fucking corndog.

Then there's the child, herself.  I really do feel bad for her.  It sucks seeing her sick, and she's already so tiny and frail, but she keeps forgetting she's sick.  The wonders that are Tylenol and Motrin have knocked nearly all the symptoms out of her.  And this is good, except for the fact that since she's feeling pretty okay, it's nearly impossible to get her to rest.  Once the medication starts wearing off she turns into a nightmare.  This morning, I'd totally envisioned a lovely day of lounging at the computer while she watched an endless stream of DVD's and quietly rested.  My experience has been nothing like that.  Instead, my whole day has been spent trying to keep her in one spot, cooking, and cleaning.  Sort of like every other day only with an extra heap of annoyance.

On top of this, I'm pretty sure I'm coming down with whatever she has.  I can hardly even taste my frozen waffles.  I'm on very limited sleep, so my thoughts are angry and tired and mostly incoherent.  I'm also aware of some rather unpleasant smell.  I think it's me.

And my mom keeps calling.  My mom is pissed off at me for blowing her off on Christmas.  Apparently all holidays happen for her.  Neat-o.  We've tried ignoring the calls, but my mom is one of those people who completely disregards unanswered phones.  Her mind remains convinced that I really am here and I really do want to talk to her.  The end result is about 45 minutes worth of consecutive calls, each with its own unique and eventually hostile voice mail.  I should really consider turning these into audio clips and posting them whenever someone pisses me off. 

So that's where we're at today.  No day off, just a big day full of fuck you.  But I promised to write daily, and I'm not prepared to give that up yet.  I know that random whining is no way to impress my audience (and again, thank you to everyone who continues reading!) so, here's a quick story:

I'm at the craptop googling things that very likely should never be googled.  She, for a fleeting moment is completely engrossed in a movie, and I'm going to enjoy that moment in every way it can possibly be enjoyed.  I'm not really paying her much attention, so it comes as a complete shock when she looks up and speaks.

"Those kids are assholes!"

I know I should reprimand her inappropriate language, but I'm simply too bewildered.  "What kids?"

"Those ones," she points to the movie.  "Buncha assholes!"

This time, I try to correct her, but there's so much passion behind her accusation that all I can do is laugh.  When I can finally breathe again, I gasp, "Why do you think that?"

"Just because."  The conversation is left there, as she returns to her movie and I return to the computer.  So far, this has been the high point of my day.

Perhaps later, I'll compose a haiku about it.