01 December 2006

My Dog Speaks for Me When I Must Hold My Tongue

The crap of the week:
I discovered my frog tank is infested with planaria.
My mom is having a cardiac catheterization and I had a dream about her telling me she was dying of a heart illness.
Work just plain sucked.
My older daughter tested my patience at every possible moment, and showed me just how similar we are.
The husband's schedule allegedly required him not to be home before 8 pm Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and on one of those nights he chould have called, but he didn't because he never calls to say he's late, and I was in a bad mood, and I would have liked his company and help earlier in the evening, so I've been a little annoyed (pissed) at him all week. But what do I say? "You can't go out"? I can't say that. I'm going to be gone most of the day on Sunday, and the shoe has been on the other foot before--many times. So I didn't say anything. I just gave attitude here and there, enough to let him know I was annoyed about something that may or may not have had anything to do with him. He probably thought I was just menstrual. And yes, I know my behavior was wrong.

Maybe Mississippi Jed picked up on the last one. Jed adores me. I'm the alpha bitch in the pack. This morning, he peed all over the husband's mesh gym bag that was full of his freshly laundered exercise apparel. The husband didn't notice until he got in the car to go to the Y after work, and noticed his car smelled like dog piss. (I guess he wasn't going to tell me he was going to spend the whole evening at the Y tonight, and not come home before 8 again.) So he had to come home to wash his dog pissed clothes and actually tell me of his plans to work out all evening. I said, (paraphrasing) "not so fast, dude, I'm going out tonight with Bea, and you're staying home." And I laughed.

Thanks, Jed.

Note: This isn't how the husband and I normally communicate. Our communication is mostly healthy, but we all have our days, and today apparently was not mine.

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