Venting in Book Four: Ichi-no-Tani 2017

Wow… 356 entries behind. It will… uh… take me a month to catch up. lol

Back when Wife and I were dating; I contracted Mumps or Measles… one of the M things. At first, Wife wasn’t… good about it. We were out dancing and I felt a stinging sensation in the glands around my neck. It really hurt. But Wife wanted to keep dancing. So we stayed. For several hours. Then my face started to expand (we have pictures) and she considered that maybe around 10 or 11; we could leave. Ultimately, I think we left at 11:30 when I said We’re going to the hospital. When we got to the Hospital; they said it was something to do with an impacted salivary gland probably and to suck on hard candy. We went back to my dorm and fell asleep. The next morning; I had a high fever and my face was considerably more swollen. Wife stayed with me all day; helping out, attending to needs, making sure I had water, calling my parents to let them know how I was. That night, when things had not improved, she took me back to the hospital. THAT doctor admitted me and kept me in the hospital for several days. During that time, Wife took care of me… helped keep things organized… kept my parents in the loop. It was during this time when my parents say “They knew she would be my wife.”

Lately… I’m starting to believe that her “taking care of me so well” was less her natural inclination and more just her feeling guilty for keeping us out dancing instead of taking me more seriously.

This morning… I am coughing up browns and yellows and greens. Plus, my back still really hurts from all of the lifting over the week. Wife comes in at 9 and tells me that I need to get out of bed and help unpack boxes. I would argue but… we both go back to work full time on Monday. The more we can finish this weekend the better. So, I get out of bed and head to the kitchen. The kitchen… is going to be a problem. There is an intense shortage of cabinets. I take our 33 ceramic plates and put them on a low, easy to reach shelf. From behind me, I hear the sharp angry voice say, “That isn’t where those should go. I thought glasses should go there.” I swallow my instinct to snap at her and say, “Plates are heavier. And more likely to break should we have difficulty getting them out of the cabinet.” Wife takes zero time to consider what I have said and responds with, “Yeah, but we don’t have a lot of cabinet space. So I thought plates should go on the top shelf.” Again, swallowing my desire to head:desk, I say, “Plastic cups fit perfectly on these two top shelves. The plates fit perfectly on this bottom shelf. It fits, it is safer. If you have a vision for how this kitchen needs to be done; either communicate it clearly or do it yourself.” As I say that, my mind paints the scenario as seen by my parents and family. They say that I am always “too mean” to Wife when I speak like this. Wife simply responds with, “I don’t have a vision. I just don’t think plates should go there. But that’s alright. I just want these boxes emptied. I’ll redo all of it myself when you’re finished anyway.”

Now… I’m really swallowing that anger. If you’re going to do nothing but criticize and then say that you’re going to redo all of it anyway… why the fuck is it such a pressing need that I do all of this?! I say nothing and continue to empty boxes and attempt to put things in places that make sense to me. Meanwhile, Wife goes back to sewing.

Now… it is true that the event we are attending for which she is doing all of this sewing is tonight. That is true and should not be overlooked. HOWEVER… it should also not be overlooked that (1) Wife was the one who passionately wanted to make all of the outfits as opposed to buying them. (2) Wife made this decision knowing that we would be moving but; in her words, we’d have time. (3) Wife didn’t realize that she/I would be ill during the week of the move (and thus this cannot be held against her). BUT (4) Wife is a freak about sewing… I say that for lack of a better word. In this instance, I say “Freak” because (even though she has been sewing for 30 years) it still takes her 3 hours to hem pants. Not because she doesn’t know what she’s doing… but because it takes her an hour to hem. Then 30 minutes to measure; 30 minutes to swear and have a freak out because it isn’t right. Then another hour to hem. This is with pants. She is like this with everything she sews. Now… that level of… whatever… often results in extremely good items. She sewed a vest that looks almost professional grade. But… stress of the sewing… plus the move… plus how LONG she sits with the sewing… like everything and everywhere else in life.... she has no ability to manage her time well. So… while I’m hacking up brown phlegm, being yelled at for putting the kitchen together wrong, she’s… hemming pants for 3 hours.

That has been our week. Thus my enhanced frustration and irritability.
Monday and Tuesday. Wife is sick. Moaning about how achey she is; whining about not feeling well; coughing a lot. So… I do my best to He-Man the heavy move. As Wife is… how Wife is driving… I also drive the U Haul… an unpleasant experience that I am certain led to my back pain. Despite my insistence to the contrary (and starting to get sick myself); Wife is convinced that we will be finished with the move on Wednesday… and throws a teeny (honestly, very small) tantrum when she discovers that there is a single car-load of stuff that could not be moved by/on Wednesday. (Along with her shitty comment about me being out of shape) She asks that I return to Tiny Town on Thursday to finish the move by myself; so that she can stay in the apartment and work on unpacking. Sounds good… I say sure. I drive up; pack everything, clean the house. Drive back. Wife has… moved a sofa, a lamp, and a computer and that is it. She does apologize that she didn’t get more done; but when I ask if she watched her shows (the reason I assumed she hadn’t done much) she gets this look on her face of “I knew I forgot something” and tells me that she did not watch her shows. So what the fuck was she doing for 6 hours? Friday comes and… I’m starting to feel really sick. Like… worried I have a fever sick. But I also have an event on Saturday and I haven’t even begun to work towards preparing for the new job on Monday. And I get it… Wife starts a new job on Monday, too. But while Wife is going from One Wal Mart to Another (something she has done for the last 15 years)… I am going from Small Town Prosecution to International Private Firm. A huge jump. And I haven’t even been “allowed” to stress about it because I’m being commanded to do the move. Friday… more of the same. I do get to sleep in until 10… because of the concerns about the Fever. But then it is being rousted by Wife and told that we have too much work to do; I need to get up and help her unpack. Fine; but I also remind her of the list of things we need to do that day. So, while she… sews… I take care of stuff with the Apartment Office to get us extra keys, get assigned a mailbox, discover trash/recycle stuff, etc. Then to Best Buy to purchase a Work Laptop. Friday night, we visited some friends. After all, Wife was getting downright panic attack because of the Apartment (which is the opposite of good… panic attack mode means she sits around, freaks out, gets VERY unpleasant, but is incapable of doing anything as she is so freaked out). So we visit friends. Have a good time. Wife brings sewing with her. Okay, whatever. At least she is using her time constructively? But then… yeah. Today. Return to me coughing up brown phlegm, sore throat, very achey body.... and Wife realizes… she forgot to pack tampons/pads and her makeup. So… Tiny Town still has Wife’s feminine hygiene products and all of her makeup. So… Wife has no make up for tonight AND her period is starting 3 days early.

So… that has been our Move Week. I still haven’t even worked out a Parking Pass for Downtown because I’ve had to deal with Move and Wife. It is almost as though Wife completely doesn’t realize that I am a separate person with my own needs, fears, concerns, and wants. And that would officially mark the 734,940,302,932,111th time I’ve thought that exact phrase :(