why am i responsible for the fact that my husband is busy all the time? am i literally supposed to be the ball and chain? i feel like i’m met with criticism when i show up alone, without my other half. there are inquiries and explanation pertaining to said husband’s absence, if i make plans i’m given the third degree as to whether or not my husband knows so he can join if he wants, yadda yadda.
i cleaned at gram’s today, and in order to preface the slice of luscious dessert i bestowed upon her, i proceeded to gush over the wonderful i time i had on valentine’s day – or, my own hand-picked monicker, “black tuesday” – at nichole’s abode. we cooked up a storm of chinese food, and it was so fun and delicious (you have got to try the wontons!). dan was there, although he had to leave early because he has a curfew – *snicker* – and i left around 1 in the morning. (pause) that’s why i’m so tired! hehe. anyhoo…
nevermind that i had fun with my best friend, that all the new recipes were such a hit and muy delish… no, “wait! what about philip?” oh, he was busy at the fire dept – of course, again, as always. “but why don’t the two of you do something?” he doesn’t have time for me anymore. “well, you should talk to him, tell him how you feel.” uh… he already knows. doesn’t care. can i still have a life, or do i have to sit around at home, waiting for him to arrive so i can serve him a nice, hot meal? she went on trying to persuade me that i should do something about it, that i should set the time. before i left, she said, “tell him you want to go dancing tonight!” i’m sure she was half joking, but even so… =shakes head=
since i’ve been tired lately, and because the initial conversation left a bad taste in my mouth – somewhat annoyed and betrayed that people seem to think either a) i am responsible for making things happen, or b) they don’t even see there’s anything wrong with the fact that i’m always alone – the rest of my time cleaning was spent contemplating such a thread of thoughts. being so preocccupied i kept dropping things, tripping on things, being generally clumsy and not able to help myself… which got me more upset. it’s like… in “miss congeniality,” when sandra bullock’s character goes home after a rather unsuccessful undercover operation, and while she’s waiting for dinner to heat up in the microwave she walks through her bedroom, and trips on her bed (or something); pissed off at it, she kicks it, and ends up wounding herself yet again. it’s a vicious cycle.
whatever. i had a great v-day, not with my sweetheart, but with my sweet friend.