Last evening, I drafted a post admitting how guilty I felt that Chris is stuck shouldering all the financial burdens for our family and working outside the home, especially because I am enjoying my son soooooooo much. . .well for now at least.
And you know what? I had no sooner hit the publish button until my poor beleaguered husband came storming down the stairs in a total snit. He started ranting about how he was going out-of-town for work and “apparently I didn’t even care enough to come upstairs and spend time with him.”
Since I had cared enough to pack him snacks and treats. . . And I laundered and dried a pair of pants and shirt because he specifically requested I do so. . .And I drug the suitcase out of the basement for him. . .And since he had been asleep for at least 2 hours at that point. . .
I laughed at him.
It was the most ridiculous statement he’s made in at least two days.
Forchrissakes, he’s going to Orlando. For a night. To perform some indoor air quality assessments. It’s not like he’s going to some war-torn country for the next 6 months on some humanitarian mission!
I know it was rude to laugh at him, but it all I could think in my head was how ridiculous the accusation was. I wasn’t aware I was expected to lie in bed awake while he slept just so I could “spend some time with him” prior to a 24 hour business trip.
And of course it escalated. And he slept on the couch. And he didn’t bother to say good bye this morning when he walked out of the house at about 5AM. And he was certain to slam the door hard enough to make sure Mac got awake. Very mature. Well played.
And I’m considering changing the locks.
And I’ve especially been thinking about that post I wrote last evening. I’m retracting it. I don’t feel guilty.
HE should feel guilty.
This sack of sugar is headed to Orlando ALONE, to a nice hotel where he won’t have to clean up after himself or anyone else. He has a generous per diem so he can dine ALONE in silence. His food won’t be cold, he won’t have to get up 12 times to pick things off the floor, someone’s nose, or dice up more grapes. He took his running shoes so before his damned enjoyable dinner he can have a lovely run and shower ALONE.
I CAN’T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY FELT GUILTY THAT HE HAD TO GO ON THIS TRIP IN THE FIRST PLACE.
And when he returns? I’ll still be here, likely dicing up grapes, probably in the same shitty clothes I had on when he left, waiting for my apology.
Apparently, we are both assholes.