7:09 p.m. - 2014-07-03
Spousal frustration
Thursday. Had my Arabic lesson, which was satisfying. I can write and recognize all the letters now.
Took the kids to the amusement park. Got pissed at A for repeatedly calling and messaging me about picking up the dog's medicine. I did not tell her, but I ignored the calls. I mean, how much freaking communicating do you have to do about a small errand? She asked me to do it. I agreed. I asked her to write down the address and leave it on the table, as I was on my way out the door to take C. to school.
She did, but then she left me maybe three voicemails and sent me several messages before noon about the damn dog medicine. It will be ready sooner than expected. Etc. I don't actually know what the voicemails were about because I didn't listen to them, but I assume that it was the same as the IMs. It always is. It's not because I forget to do things and need reminding, it's because A. is anal. If she calls the pharmacy and they say the prescription will be ready by two, she'll call me and then call the pharmacy back and ask if it MIGHT be ready sooner. If they say yes, she'll call me back and tell me that. And then she'll call the pharmacy half an hour later and get an update. And call me with the update.
WTF -- I am fine with picking it up after 2. I much prefer picking it up after 2 to getting half-hour updates on the time it will be ready. I'm in an Arabic lesson, I'm driving, I'm in an amusement park with my kids. Jesus! I need my phone to stop ringing and vibrating with updates on the status of the dog's prescription.
I did message her back, finally, "Ill get the prescription." As I stated this morning, for Chrissake.
She messaged back, "Thanks" and mercifully, dropped the topic. And the messaging.
Maybe it's because I made the mistake of telling her a couple of weeks ago that m and I used to talk a dozen times a day and I miss that. I guess it was a stupid thing to say because M and I talked a dozen times a day because we worked in the same field (news) and we had the same interests (cool stories, newsroom-related ethical stuff, who to talk to and what else to research, etc., etc.) After that, well, we had kids together and I was staying home with them. He was interested in kids and I was still interested in news. He still called me to seek my advice a lot. And I called him to tell him about our kids.
My kids aren't A's kids, and she doesn't want hourly updates on them. She thinks her job is boring and so do I. I suppose this leaves us the dog's prescription to talk about 12 times a day but I am not interested in talking about the dog's prescription 12 times a day. To be honest, I can't stand the dog and I can't wait for him to die.
OK, there, now I've said it. A would probably be heartbroken and furious if she knew I felt that way, because he's her baby and has been for 12 years. I mean, she bought a house so the goddamn dog could poop in the yard. Seriously. She bought a house for the dog. I, on the other hand, cannot wait till the backyard is not mined with dogshit. I can't wait until the house isn't boobytrapped with dog pee. That fucking dog pees on the bathroom rug every fucking day with no exceptions, and sometimes a half-dozen times a day. We have four fucking rugs for the bathroom and some days, none of them are clean.
To be honest, I've come to hate all of her animals, except the cats. Maybe including the cats; I don't know. I used to be an animal lover, or I thought I was, until I moved in with A and her menagerie. Now I am starting to fucking hate animals. She has way too many of them and they pee everywhere. She is constantly cleaning up after them and it could be worse, but I think if it was worse I would have moved out by now. She wants to always have at least one ferret and ferrets are never, ever continent. She lets them out of their cage an hour a night and they proceed to pee in every corner they find. She puts 'wee-wee pads" in the corners but this does not render the situation any more papatable to me. I shouldn't have a wee-wee pad under my desk and in every fucking corner of my bedroom. I tolerate it because I know that animals are what make life worth living to her. But I hate it. I am waiting for every single last one of her animals to die. Except the cats; they generally pee where they're supposed to. One of the cats is incredibly annoying and has never met a door she doesn't want to be on the other side of; she keeps us awake nights scratching on doors, including doors that are open. Sleep deprivation bothers me, but not on the level that pee bothers me. I hate fucking indoor pee. Hate it. I don't care how quickly it gets cleaned up; unless you actually see the animal do it, you located it by smell or by stepping in it.
There should not fucking be urine and excrement inside a house that my children and I live in. Period.
I never should have married an animal lover.
I am done ranting now and it will maybe enable me to not be withdrawn and uninteractive when she comes home. It is not her fault; I knew she had a lot of animals and that they pee on the floor and married her anyway. I guess I thought I could be OK with it. I guess I AM ok with it, because I don't think I'm going to do anything about it. I'm just going to rant online.
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