Thursday, August 12, 2004

Isn't it amazing how you can miss someone so dreadfully, and then suddenly, not so much?

GB was lucky he wasn't home last night. I'm sure the nice hotel his job has put him up in was more comfortable than the couch would have been. I love him, I want him home safe, but I didn't want him home last night.

It would seem that he and my father are being boys together.

You remember the room I cleaned out last weekend. Well, I've lived in this home for about ten months now - I moved in September 27, 2003. At the time, many boxes of my belongings were simply piled on top of the many boxes of GB's belongings for lack of space. The room quickly filled from floor to ceiling with junk. And it has very seldom been touched since then. We couldn't step more than one foot at a time into the room, couldn't see the opposite wall, certainly couldn't access anything in there. Since I moved in, we've been saying to each other that we wanted to organize, throw things out, and clean out the room for use as an office (oh, who are we kidding here, it would be a fiber-fun room). But we've both been tired, and he's been traveling, and we just never got around to it.

So I was extraordinarily motivated, and took myself to task Saturday. I made a huge amount of progress in the room, going through dozens of boxes, throwing out plenty of my own things, some of his, and lots of trash (why this man felt the need to hang onto fifteen empty cardboard boxes, I could not tell you). Before taking things to the actual trash cans and dumping them, they lived in my kitchen overnight. I spoke with GB on the phone Saturday night, and told him what I was doing. He seemed enthusiastic, and encouraging, and even a smidge impressed. Sunday my parents came over to help, and given instructions that they were not to question my desire to throw things out - I wanted this junk gone from my house, not to keep it here thinking I might need it again. It has been inaccessible for nearly a year, and if we haven't missed it, we haven't needed it, and don't need it now.

Well, they asked on nearly everything, and my father even insisted on calling GB about several items. Now, GB didn't know those items existed until someone asked him about them, and he's probably even bought replacements for a lot of it, but then suddenly they became something we shouldn't toss.

Skip to three days later. My father and GB were talking on the phone last night, apparantly discussing once again the things we'd decided to toss, and my father called me just after in a panic that we'd thrown away some "antique" Christmas ornaments (GB considers it to be antique if it's older than he is, no value should be inferred here). So I called GB to tell him I would look for the box he was talking about, though I didn't remember seeing it in what we purged, and was there anything else that I needed to save.

And suddenly, I never should have cleaned up, I should have waited for him, and I never gave him any say in the matter, and what was he supposed to do, tell me not to throw something away??????

Um. Yeah?

In ten months, this never got done, so I went ahead without him. He had Saturday night and Sunday to let me know of things of value that he wanted to keep. He didn't do so. And three days later it's MY fault if something is missing?

Because he works hard, and travels so much, I wanted to give him a surprise when he got back of having another room, of taking away a lot of the "honey-do" list so he wouldn't feel overwhelmed all the time. I tried that last time he went away, and he gave me grief about my attempts then. I tried this time, and get more crap.

This is ridiculous. You do not get to complain that I don't do enough around the house and then bitch and moan about my tactics when I DO SOMETHING AROUND THE HOUSE! Do it all and shut up, or give what I do a thank you (and believe me, he gets TONS of 'thank you's for what he does) and leave it be.

I found the box that we think the damn ornaments are in, but I can't reach it. He can get it himself when he gets home. I'm not in the mood to clean anymore.

Thoughts for the Day:

Mahatma Gandhi - I first learned the concepts of non-violence in my marriage.

Conan O'Brien - A study in the Washington Post says that women have better verbal skills than men. I just want to say to the authors of that study: Duh.

Katharine Hepburn - Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.


Blogger Amanda said...

Men are such pack-rats!! My husband and father are just like that. This is what I do--I get my mother involved and maybe my sister, but that is it. If it is something big, I 'donate' it to my mom and she will throw it out at her place (hiding it from my father so he doesn't decide to take whatever it is). If it is a bunch of little stuff, I just throw it out and don't say anything. If he hasn't asked about it or used it, he doesn't need it. I don't even give advance warning. I just do it! You need the what? Never saw it! :-)

9:28 AM  
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5:33 PM  
Blogger Jensgalore said...

That sounds so much like when I got married! I moved in with the husband in the house that he'd had for years. There was one room filled with stuff and he threw my boxes in there too. The closets and drawers were full of junk, the attic was overflowing with years worth of living and I was scared to touch anything lest I throw away something vital. I have gained more courage over the years and most of the time he never even notices what I've chucked out. But if he does, oh my, the trauma! But I figure, if he can't be bothered to deal with it, and leaves it up to me to take care of it, he's lost the right to complain. I refuse to clean around it anymore. :P

10:31 PM  

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