Regretful Farts in Your Face

I can’t bring myself to read any articles on the Pulse shooting, because… I just can’t. I don’t want to read about the heartbreak and the total waste of life, for no good reason. And then I don’t want to read the smug news reports coming out of Australia about it, when they have no actual idea about why gun reform will not be successful here. And I don’t want to interact with anyone on Facebook because they all want to debate about it and assume I, too, want to debate about it when I don’t. Just let me alone. Leave me to try and come to terms with an ugly thing that has happened.

I feel better for having written that out.

The weekend was okay. I am feeling a lot of frustration towards M over little things that shouldn’t matter. I’m also having a hard time listening to him talk from his heart, simply because it’s so fucking long winded and goes in circles, and has to cover every last possible outcome .... ever. Like when he casually mentions that working nights wouldn’t be too awful in his job. But it’s not something he wants to do. (This should be the end of that thought.) BUT IT WOULD NEVER WORK BECAUSE YOU NEVER REALLY GET ADJUSTED TO SLEEPING IN THE DAYTIME NO MATTER WHAT YOU TRY AND PEOPLE AROUND HERE ARE NOISY ANYWAY SO HE’D DEFINITELY GET WOKEN UP A BUNCH OF TIMES ANYWAY AND BESIDES, HE’D BE COMING HOME FROM WORK IN HIS WORK UNIFORM IN THE MORNING AND THEN HAVING TO IMMEDIATELY DRIVE ME TO WORK (well, no, I could drive myself) AND THEN HE’D HAVE TO MAKE SURE HE WAS AWAKE AND DRESSED IN TIME TO PICK ME UP FROM WORK AND THEN WE’D COME HOME AND HAVE DINNER BUT THEN HE’S NOT SURE WHAT WE’D BE EATING FOR DINNER BECAUSE IT’S NOT LIKE THERE’D BE A HUGE AMOUNT OF TIME FOR MEAL PREPARATION BUT HE DOESN’T WANT TO END UP LIKE HIS COWORKER JOE WHO EATS BURGER KING ALL THE TIME AND IS GOING TO DROP DEAD OF A HEART ATTACK ANY SECOND AND ANYWAY HE’D GO OFF TO WORK BUT HE’D BE NERVOUS LEAVING ME ALONE IN THE APARTMENT AT NIGHT.

Why are we even… It bothers me in particular when I say, “Hey, I have to do some transcribing, it’s getting late.” And he goes, “Okay but BLAH BLAH BLAH” and spews out yet another story while I’m wondering if I can press charges for grievous loss of life.

I don’t mean to be a dick. It’s very obvious to me that his thought patterns differ greatly from mine, and that in order to reach the conclusion, he needs to go along every avenue and consider every option first. It can just be really draining, and it’s when I feel pressed for time that I start to get really irritated by it.

I’ve noticed that I’m far less obsessive about my parking space on the days I work from home. This is good news, because it’s actually tiring to get up every 20 minutes or so and stare through the peephole. I still look out there a few times a day (a habit formed years ago that I will probably not be able to shake for years to come), but if I see a car in my space, I just don’t care. This is good, because I shouldn’t care. Our car is with M, and it’s not a big deal if someone parks there for a few minutes to load something into their car or pick someone up. I only have a problem if they’re parked there when we need the space. That really fucking ticks me off still. But I wanted to note this small improvement, which probably seems completely ridiculous to most of you anyway, but for me, not feeling constant obsessive thoughts about it, and anxiety any time I saw a car there, helps me a lot. I am happy to kiss that goodbye.

I am binge eating this morning, for the first time in a little while. The supermarket provided me with a tray of 8 dumplings, 1 huge sushi roll (10 thick slices), a ham and provolone sandwich on a pretzel roll, a “share bag” of potato chips and a 600ml Coke. And I’ve nearly ingested the lot. In the past I would wait 20 minutes, chug a litre of water and then go and throw the whole lot up, preferably into a plastic bag, but these days? I’ll probably just lay on the couch, farting and feeling regretful.