relationship drama

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Five for Friday

It IS Friday, right? I am at the point in summer where I have sort of lost track of the days. I have certainly lost track of the ability to write a cohesive blog post on one topic, that’s for sure. (Did I ever really possess that ability????) So let’s do some bullet points. 

1. Sleep Regression: I have become a baby, internet, mixing up my days and my nights. I have trouble sleeping at night, so I end up napping during the day. Which makes me not sleepy at bedtime, so I stay up later than I intend to. Then I am tired the next day, so I take a nap. Lather, rinse, repeat. I am not a fan, and also I’m not really sure how to correct this??? When I try to not nap, I end up nearly falling asleep while driving, so I don’t think that’s the answer. Probably the answer is some combination of better habits and seek professional help, but I don’t feel like doing those things so I’m whining about it instead.

2. Velcro Baby: Speaking of babies, my actual baby (who is a long-limbed pre-teen) stayed home from camp this week to fight a cold. It’s one of those awful coughs, and the doctor basically said there’s nothing they can do about it at this point. Hopefully it goes away soon, I hate hearing my poor kiddo hack away in the middle of the night. It’s been a while since she’s had a sick day, and she was Velcroed to me the entire time, which I think is as good a demonstration as any that she is sick. We watched MANY movies. Having her draped all over me was both lovely – I mean, how much longer is she going to deign to sit on my lap? – and tiresome. She is heavy, now, and has many more elbows and knees than seems possible, and they are all sharp. I kept telling myself to enjoy it; I would have my body and my time back soon enough, and being able to snuggle with her is precious and limited. And yet I just wanted some personal space for the love. I am so used to her being so independent, it’s a little startling how little patience I have for dependency. It reminds me of the toddler years, and how HARD it was, to have someone touching me at all times, to have someone needing me at every second. Big kids bring along their own challenges, but mine at least has not been as physically demanding as she was a few years ago. If you are in the toddler stage, you have my sincere empathy. By the way, having an 11-year-old cough in your face is just as charming as having a three-year-old cough in your face. Some things never change. 

3. Mosquito Prevention: My legs are covered in mosquito bites right now. COVERED. I have a hideous bite on the back of my arm, too – red and angry. It’s unattractive and itchy. I haven’t had bug bites like these since the beginning of the summer. You know why? Because my husband bought this mosquito repellent device and we turn it on anytime we are outside. IT IS MAGIC. We’ve had it outside with us basically all summer, including during our two recent dinner parties and I came away with nary a bite! But then we went to our neighbors’ house for an impromptu BBQ and ended up hanging outside for about 20 minutes, and I got chewed to bits. Maybe I need to buy the neighbors their own mosquito device??? Or start carrying mine with me? 

4. Automotive Technology: Earlier this week, I found myself looking up automotive technology programs at local colleges. Is this the second career I need? Is this a(n over)reaction to too many recalls on my car? Is this a cry for help? I like cars, but I’ve never really been interested in learning how they work. My father would be delighted to help me, I’m sure. (He tried to teach me how to change my own oil back in the late 90s and… I resisted.) But I often find myself wishing I had more automotive knowledge. Mainly when the mechanic is telling me I NEED a part that costs $800. Maybe it would be kind of cool to reinvent myself as an auto mechanic. This is not going to happen, but it’s fun to think about. 

5. Shame Spiral: I am on one (1) group chat, and honestly I don’t know if a group text is the same thing as a group chat, and those two points should really Tell You Something. Anyway, I responded to a message with something that I meant to be silly and fun, and no one responded, and I have been analyzing it backwards and forwards since yesterday afternoon and feeling worse and worse and more and more sure that my (probably former) friends are not only going to cut me out of the group chat, but out of their lives completely. It wasn’t even that BAD, I don’t think; at most it was a) not funny or b) mildly insulting of someone’s relative’s food choice. But nonetheless: SHAME SPIRAL. Also, I am well aware that maybe they didn’t respond simply because it wasn’t response-worthy, or because they went out to dinner or had to deal with a sick child or sat down to watch a movie or or or. I may be a narcissist, but I am aware of it. Anyway, despite all my coping thoughts of narcissism and “people who are your friends will forgive you the occasional dumb comment,” I continue to spiral. I am the most awkward person on the planet and do not deserve friends. Probably at least some of this has to do with me submitting a short story to my critique group and being sure they are texting each other behind my back about the best way to break it to me that the story is not really a story and also sucks balls. But also I haven’t had A Friend Group since college and we didn’t text back then anyway and I don’t know how to be a person or what I’m doing trying. Fretting about how they are texting each other about how to respond to my stupid attempt at humor is what I AM doing. 

There. That’s my Friday morning for you, Internet! What’s up with you?

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Misunderstanding

We have been on vacation, which was lovely, and I want to tell you all about it (especially about traveling during a pandemic * shudder *) but I am going to ease back into blogging by sharing with you a marital misunderstanding. 

PLEASE tell me that you and your spouse / roommate / co-habitant have similar misunderstandings from time to time, because this is the kind of thing that makes me feel like perhaps my husband and I have been living COMPLETELY SEPARATE LIVES.

I mean, HOW, after living together since 2003 – which means our co-habitation is ready to go off to college! – can we still so drastically misunderstand one another??? Shouldn’t we KNOW each other by now? Shouldn’t we LISTEN when the other person says things or expresses preferences or suggests rules? Are we simply two strangers, living side-by-side???????

Despite the all-capsy nature of the previous paragraphs, this is a very low stakes misunderstanding. At least, from my perspective; my husband may have a COMPLETELY SEPARATE OPINION. 

A few years back, our washer died, so we got a new washer. (And a new dryer, because our old dryer was ancient and SURE to collapse the instant we didn’t buy a new one, and plus my husband and I like Things That Match.) The new washer was – unlike the old top loader – a front loader.

I was Deeply Reluctant to get a top loader, because I have heard horror stories about mold and smelliness. But it seemed like they were really the only option. And, more importantly, we needed a washer and dryer that opened a specific way, and were a specific size, based on the layout of our minuscule laundry room. So we got this pair and they have been Fine. 

I remember discussing, at great length, the mold/smell problem with my husband. I remember this CLEARLY. And the solution we came up with was to always, always leave the washer door open. As the person who does laundry 90 percent of the time in our household, this is the method I have always, always used for all the years we have had this washer. 

The other day, Carla spilled something. As she usually does, she stood over the spill exclaiming, “Oh no!” and I said in exasperation, “Go get a towel and clean it up!” We have a towel in the laundry room for JUST THIS PURPOSE. It is on a small hook attached to the washing machine, and I use it to dry my hands when I use the laundry room sink, and Carla knows (supposedly) to go grab it if she spills something. 

My husband was AGHAST.

“That towel isn’t for SPILLS,” he said with quiet and horrorstruck urgency. “That towel is for wiping the inside of the washing machine.”

But… it ISN’T for wiping out the inside of the washing machine, because I have literally been using it to dry my hands and Carla has been using it to mop up spills. (She is eight; spills are frequent.) (I hope you understand that we replace the towel once it has been used. It hasn’t been the exact same towel hanging there, collecting hand water and floor spillage, for years on end.)

“No….” my husband was clear. And clearly appalled. “It is for wiping out the machine. That’s WHY it is there.”

He was under the impression that I had been wiping out the inside of the washing machine – including under the rubber seal that attaches to the door – Every Single Time I did the laundry. 

Well. That has not happened once. Not one time. Because the towel was for wiping up spills. THAT’S why it was there. 

My husband pointed out that we had purposely purchased a Command hook and attached it to the washer and hung a towel on it… for wiping out the machine.

Please imagine, if you will, a man who loves you deeply and yet who is so completely gobsmacked by your inexplicable behavior that all he can do is stare, his expression a mix of bewilderment and horror, his mouth open in a half-formed “why???????” while he tries to swallow the urge to howl in whatever word appropriately conveys the strongest form of exasperation known to humankind.

I have done laundry twice since and have used the towel for its intended purpose. Time will tell if I continue to do so. After all, not once has the washing machine molded or smelled in all the time I have been misusing the towel.