I don’t even know where to start. This will most likely be incoherent but if I don’t at least attempt to get it out I may explode.
Step 1 in reaching this point was finding out a Big Work Thing at 5:15 on Friday. Without going into too much detail, basically as of the start of work tomorrow my entire job description will have changed. OK, so it’s not as cut and dry as that, but to me it is a Very Big Deal. I don’t like change, and I’m especially resistant to it in this instance. I’m… I don’t know. Angry? Upset that I will have to deal with this change, knowing that it will be difficult and that I need to remain professional about it. I am not looking forward to the next few weeks. I REALLY wish that I could write more about it, but I can’t, so you are going to have to trust me on all of this and know that I am hurting over it.
Next step was, ok, fine – me being a stupid girl. I’ll own up to it. On Friday after I found out about the Big Work Thing, I went out with 2 work friends for a drink. I couldn’t talk about the Big Work Thing (because it won’t be announced until Monday) but damn did I need that drink. I called Matt on my way there to let him know that I wouldn’t be home for a while and told him, very briefly, about the Big Work Thing. He knew how upset I was – I was crying on the phone and he KNOWS how big of a deal this is to me, how important my job is to me, etc. But when I got home, still upset, still practically crying the whole night, did he ask if I wanted to talk about it? No. Because a goddamn baseball game was on, and hey, what could be more important than that?
Now, I know that he is not a mind reader, and I should have just told him to turn off the TV and talk to me – and that is just me being a stupid girl. But I really felt like he could have shown some sensitivity. I am not typically a needy emotional girlfriend. It’s pretty obvious when I’m upset and need him to be there for me. And I can’t help feeling like he let me down. I’ll get over it… but I was – and still am – pretty hurt.
Fast forward to today. This is the final straw. I’m pissed. How fucking hard is it to clean up? Why is it always so difficult to keep the house clean? I know that we are both busy during the week, and neither of us is great at keeping things clean after we get home. But on the weekends, I like things to be neat. So when you tell me that you cleaned the kitchen and the living room, is it unreasonable for me to expect that I will not go find 1) coats on the couch, 2) shopping bags on the living room floor, 3) two pairs of shoes in the middle of the entryway, and 4) A CAKE FROM EASTER STILL ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE.
Ever see the Everybody Loves Raymond episode with the luggage? And the smelly cheese? This what that damn cake has been like to me. It has been there since Easter. We have not touched it since Easter. And yet it is still there. Because I wanted to see how long it would sit there. I finally threw it away a few minutes ago. I caved because I could not take it anymore.
It’s pathetic because I don’t even think he knows we’ve been having this one-sided cake stand-off. IT JUST DRIVES ME CRAZY. If I say something, I’m nagging, and why didn’t I just throw it away if it drives me crazy, and why do I always yell at him instead of appreciating the things he does. If I don’t say something, I get even more pissed. I know that he is not doing it on purpose – he just doesn’t see it. It just doesn’t occur to him to throw out the cake, or hang up the coats, or move his shoes. What gets me is that I can’t say something without making it a complete lose-lose situation.
He’d kill me if he ever knew I wrote this. And I do feel the need to backtrack and say that he is a great guy and generally really supportive and caring and wonderful. If a cake making its way to the trash is the biggest problem that we have in our relationship then I’m willing to live with that. I’m just upset right now. I need to go talk to him but I can’t do it without exploding. So I need to wait, and hopefully simmer myself down by writing this post. And I do know enough to recognize that a large part of my emotional timebomb is coming from the Big Work Thing. I’ve been a wreck all weekend waiting for Monday and the rollercoaster that will come with it.
Is 2:00 on a Sunday an inapprorpriate time to start drinking?