living with a boy...
i planned to move saturday, spend sunday unpacking and grab the finals on monday. i had people signed up and if not raring, at least ready to go. after the first caravan of me, my sister and two derby teammates i received a call from the X.
which went kinda like this:
him: i can''t
me: (completely sick of the 'i can't'): you have to you stupid mutherfucker i haaaaaaaaaaate yoooooooooooooou!!!!
him: i'm taking you to mediation
me: GOOD! BRING IT ON!
*sob. sob. cry. cry* then...
me: lets get another load.
back to santa rosa and i'm starting to lose it. "we'll never make it. we can't move all the stuff. i need to rent a uhaul. oh mygod i's already 2:30. we'll never make it. oh my god."
we make one more trip from santa rosa to guerneville with me a moody mess about ensuing mediation.
my fella works on the plainest form of communication in the world. if i want/need something, i have to ask. he doesnt read my mind. annoying!!!
so on top of everything lse i'm feeling sorry for myself and starting to have massive anxiety about what kind of relationship we have when i am hear with 2 girls moving my household to HIS town and he's not here to lend me a hand at all.
i rationalize tha the asked me if i needed help and i said no.
so he didnt. fucker.
i wake up sunday at 7:00. a quarter of my house is moved, i have to pick up my daughters at 10:00 in santa rosa from fuckers house, i have no one planne dto help me move. it's so last minute no one i call is available. it's 7 a.m. and drizzling in guerneville. i feel completely without hope.
i take a bath and sob in the lukewarm water. caterwaul, more like.
he doesn't hear.
i wake him up a little after 8:0 saying "i need to talk to you"
he says "now???"
i say resolutely "Yes."
then i sob some more about how scared i am and how i NEED him to tell me he loves me and he's happy about this and doesnt regret it.
"do you regret it?" i ask "od you? do you regret?"
"....no."
"why'd you pause. why was that such a long pause? what does the pause mean???"
"it means it's 8 in the morning and i'm tired, and i have a lot of shit to do today and i don't need this today. and i know you don't either but...c'mon"
my first instinct is to slap him. jump on top of his chest and pummel his gorgeous face with my knobby knuckles. second, which i say is, "i'd rather hear that than nothing and not know where you are at."
he kisses me and he goes back to sleep. i leave still unsure of what my day is going to look like. 2 minutes out of town i pass a rental place with three proud uhauls sitting pretty in th eparking lot. i u-turn in the next driveway and in under 20 minutes i'm behind the wheel of a 14 foot u-haul for the first time in my life. my despair and anger fuel me to overcome my fears.
i drive that beast into fuckers apartment complex prking lot and get my daughters inside the cab, chirping away at the goodness that lies ahead of us.
i drive home realizing i'm about to move, alone, with two kids.
luckily, one derby sister steps up and eventually comes over with her husband.
we take a detour to pick up a couch. i want the couch and honey has to get rid of it. it's supposedly on our derby presidents porch. i decide to give her a courtsey call to let her know we're coming to get the thng after several months. i think she'll be pleased. christ almighty, the president may as well be my father as fucking hard as i work to gain her non-existent approval.
i get a shitty phone call on the drive over. she's a prime example of doctrine and tact. shortly after, i go home, witohut a couch. i tell my friend SHE has to call the president back as i dont have the patience or stability at the moment.
like i need this, right?
with the three of us, it takes and hour, give or take, to get my worldly goods into the back of the rented truck. they have other places to be, so ask if i have help on the other side to unload. i say 'yes, go, go. thank you!" even though i do not know whats in guerneville or if i will have help on hand.
i love the sound when the truck starts up. i've had a driving phobia for almost 7 years. just this very morning i was quaking with fear over the thoguht of driving a u-haul. i never have before. i wouldn't. couldn't. now here i was with my girls riding shot gun, our home strapped in the back like a speeding turtle and i'm feeling pretty bad ass.
i love to do the thigns i believe i can't do.
on the other ahnd, i'm still feeling really sorry for myself. wher eis everyone? does everyone hate me now? did i lose all my friends? does no one love me? why aqm i doing this alone?
(obviously, disregarding much, but i dont want to rememer that and rain on my pity parade.)
to wrap this story up...i moved. we moved in. we live together.
we're both tired. sunday we were grumpy. the kids are stoked.
i felt real fucking insecure. i'm in the bath when he comes in and tells me to pick a hand.
one hand holds my favorite cany. the other a bag of chocolate cookies. after they are presented i get covered in kisses. later in bed, i get something even more intimate.
i awake today, feeling much better.
more about today tomooorow.
but i did make pork chops with bacon, honey and rosemary with a side of mashed potaoes.
and, it was good.
amen.
which went kinda like this:
him: i can''t
me: (completely sick of the 'i can't'): you have to you stupid mutherfucker i haaaaaaaaaaate yoooooooooooooou!!!!
him: i'm taking you to mediation
me: GOOD! BRING IT ON!
*sob. sob. cry. cry* then...
me: lets get another load.
back to santa rosa and i'm starting to lose it. "we'll never make it. we can't move all the stuff. i need to rent a uhaul. oh mygod i's already 2:30. we'll never make it. oh my god."
we make one more trip from santa rosa to guerneville with me a moody mess about ensuing mediation.
my fella works on the plainest form of communication in the world. if i want/need something, i have to ask. he doesnt read my mind. annoying!!!
so on top of everything lse i'm feeling sorry for myself and starting to have massive anxiety about what kind of relationship we have when i am hear with 2 girls moving my household to HIS town and he's not here to lend me a hand at all.
i rationalize tha the asked me if i needed help and i said no.
so he didnt. fucker.
i wake up sunday at 7:00. a quarter of my house is moved, i have to pick up my daughters at 10:00 in santa rosa from fuckers house, i have no one planne dto help me move. it's so last minute no one i call is available. it's 7 a.m. and drizzling in guerneville. i feel completely without hope.
i take a bath and sob in the lukewarm water. caterwaul, more like.
he doesn't hear.
i wake him up a little after 8:0 saying "i need to talk to you"
he says "now???"
i say resolutely "Yes."
then i sob some more about how scared i am and how i NEED him to tell me he loves me and he's happy about this and doesnt regret it.
"do you regret it?" i ask "od you? do you regret?"
"....no."
"why'd you pause. why was that such a long pause? what does the pause mean???"
"it means it's 8 in the morning and i'm tired, and i have a lot of shit to do today and i don't need this today. and i know you don't either but...c'mon"
my first instinct is to slap him. jump on top of his chest and pummel his gorgeous face with my knobby knuckles. second, which i say is, "i'd rather hear that than nothing and not know where you are at."
he kisses me and he goes back to sleep. i leave still unsure of what my day is going to look like. 2 minutes out of town i pass a rental place with three proud uhauls sitting pretty in th eparking lot. i u-turn in the next driveway and in under 20 minutes i'm behind the wheel of a 14 foot u-haul for the first time in my life. my despair and anger fuel me to overcome my fears.
i drive that beast into fuckers apartment complex prking lot and get my daughters inside the cab, chirping away at the goodness that lies ahead of us.
i drive home realizing i'm about to move, alone, with two kids.
luckily, one derby sister steps up and eventually comes over with her husband.
we take a detour to pick up a couch. i want the couch and honey has to get rid of it. it's supposedly on our derby presidents porch. i decide to give her a courtsey call to let her know we're coming to get the thng after several months. i think she'll be pleased. christ almighty, the president may as well be my father as fucking hard as i work to gain her non-existent approval.
i get a shitty phone call on the drive over. she's a prime example of doctrine and tact. shortly after, i go home, witohut a couch. i tell my friend SHE has to call the president back as i dont have the patience or stability at the moment.
like i need this, right?
with the three of us, it takes and hour, give or take, to get my worldly goods into the back of the rented truck. they have other places to be, so ask if i have help on the other side to unload. i say 'yes, go, go. thank you!" even though i do not know whats in guerneville or if i will have help on hand.
i love the sound when the truck starts up. i've had a driving phobia for almost 7 years. just this very morning i was quaking with fear over the thoguht of driving a u-haul. i never have before. i wouldn't. couldn't. now here i was with my girls riding shot gun, our home strapped in the back like a speeding turtle and i'm feeling pretty bad ass.
i love to do the thigns i believe i can't do.
on the other ahnd, i'm still feeling really sorry for myself. wher eis everyone? does everyone hate me now? did i lose all my friends? does no one love me? why aqm i doing this alone?
(obviously, disregarding much, but i dont want to rememer that and rain on my pity parade.)
to wrap this story up...i moved. we moved in. we live together.
we're both tired. sunday we were grumpy. the kids are stoked.
i felt real fucking insecure. i'm in the bath when he comes in and tells me to pick a hand.
one hand holds my favorite cany. the other a bag of chocolate cookies. after they are presented i get covered in kisses. later in bed, i get something even more intimate.
i awake today, feeling much better.
more about today tomooorow.
but i did make pork chops with bacon, honey and rosemary with a side of mashed potaoes.
and, it was good.
amen.