I’ve been in a bit of a funky mood the past few days. That’s not like me. I’m usually super upbeat, really optimistic, but the bank account is shoving the truth in my face lately and I don’t much care for the fact that I’m at the end of my barrel, after years of working to get slightly ahead, I’m back to scraping pennies. It doesn’t matter if you blame the President, the economic cycle, the rising cost of Nike’s, or the stars in the sky, the fact still remains that I’m dead broke and the light at the end of the tunnel has burned out.
The kids have been a bit challenging lately, the husband is never home and even my favorite boy toys have been too busy with their real lives to run my imaginary one, so I’ve just been sliding down hill. Last night I couldn’t even decide what to make for dinner. I got 5 or 6 things out of the freezer and put them back. I googled new recipes and flipped through every page of Rachel Ray’s 30 minute meals book. I’m usually a fantastic cook. I invite people for dinner 3 or 4 times a week (mainly the in-laws, but still, I feed an army). Nothing looked good. Nothing sounded good. I ended up fixing the kids corn dogs with tater tots (they didn’t notice the funk in that) and got on Facebook.
After liking a few statuses, I posted “Somebody please break me out of this funk” and my nearest dearest friend said “come have Pina Coladas with me!” Considering her Pina Coladas are top-notch, and I have had to turn down her last 3 invites, I decided to jump on that.
It didn’t take long for the giggles to set in. I was busy passing out my real life confessions, unwinding my frustrations, smiling for the first time in 3 days when there was a knock at the door. And who was it? Colonel Jackass in the flesh!
He actually came to chase me down like a wayward teenager. It’s not enough that he always wants me to go to bed when he goes to bed, that he can’t sleep unless I lay down with him or that he won’t even let me watch TV when I’m not tired because it keeps him up, but he can watch TV when I’m sleeping.
It’s not enough that he can’t stop channel surfing and he thinks being the man of the house means TV is always his choice so even if I’ve watched 1 hr 45 mins of a 2 hour movie, he feels justified in walking in the room and flipping it in the final minutes.
It’s not enough that he can go off on his weekend expeditions and leave me to man the house and the kids without any back-up.
It’s not enough that he has developed this habit of bitching- ALL THE TIME.
On top of all of these frustrating things he added insult to injury when he couldn’t let me escape for just one night.
He honestly was angry that I was at my friend’s house, that I was drinking alcoholic beverages, and that I wasn’t at home folding laundry like I always do. The worst part is that he couldn’t just admit that he was pissed. Instead he kept making little comments.
I hate those passive-aggressive remarks more than anything in this world. If you’re going to be pissed at me, have the balls to tell me so.
Instead, he pouted because I beat him to the shower. Then he acted as if he suddenly hates the smell of my lotion (the same smell that had him nibbling my shoulders by the fence the other night). Then he commented that I would have better served my family if I had been home doing housework!
I worked all day. I got off, cleaned the house, fed the kids, put them to bed, and then I had a Pina Colada with my best friend- did I really just do the worst thing ever?
Maybe I should have said: “get over yourself, before you add another reason for me to get over you!”
But once more, I bit my tongue….