My husband is annoying the ever-loving shit out of me. I can barely stand to be around him. He talks about the same things over and over and over, and even if I tell him "I heard this" or even, "I was there" he continues to tell me the story.
So I ignore him about 90% of the time.
He makes stupid choices.
He constantly shoots himself in the foot.
He has the common sense of a rock.
He can be and often is an idiot.
I'm tired and exhausted of dealing with his low self-esteem and inability to do something right as well as emotional outbursts which border on hysteria and rage. Not border, ARE.
I spoke to a therapist over the phone, and she told me she could get me referrals to some women's shelters ASAP. I don't need that, but would take it if I thought it would get me out of this fucking hellhole I find myself living in.
The truth is...I can barely stand to be around him anymore. I stay up late so I can be alone, do what I like without him commenting, questioning, or being annoying. UGH. And I don't have to sleep with him at the same time. He snores loudly and hogs the bed. If I wait until about 2am--he's up at 6--he's quieted down and I can get some rest and some covers.
I think. I think. I think the marriage may be over. Although that makes me sad, and my heart hurt, inside of me is a young woman (ha!) who is jumping up and down and screaming yes! yes! yes!
I'm not sure how this is going to play out. I hope it's not messy.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Primal Scream
OMG, I've got to bitch somewhere, so you are it blogger.
I have a friend who wrote a book. This is my oldest, dearest, most loved friend. We've known each other since he was fourteen and I was sixteen. His parents thought we were going to get married. I thought we were, too. Then in his 20s, after he and I had toured Europe together and shared a room (chastely), he figured out that he was gay. My heart was broken, but my love for him changed from romantic to familial, and I love him very much. He's the guy I would call if my car broke down in the middle of the desert at 4am. And he would come and get me. And I would do the same for him. He's my dearest friend.
His book, however, has not been my friend. He has a great story, but it's written so badly that it is essentially a steaming pile of shit. He hired me--and already paid me--to edit his book. And he won't take suggestions. He's fought me every step of the way. About a year ago, I decided to quit fighting him, just make sure the mechanics were correct, and hope and pray he didn't put my name in the acknowledgements. *fingerscrossed*
SO I've edited it about five times, now, and I'm editing it one last time. And all the changes I made, in the mechanics, have been fucked with. Quotation marks moved or deleted. Commas added where none are needed. SO I'm fixing it. AGAIN. I'm not fixing it anymore after this.
Now he wants me to "read it" from beginning to end to check for flow and subtlety. On th ephone yesterday I told him that there was no point in doing that because I do that while I'm editing. Development editing is my specialty. I also told him that I'd like to deconstruct the whole thing and add in a pile of character development, but he doesn't want any character development (that's the thing I quit fighting him on). He's self-publishing; he can publish any pile of shit he wants. Lots of people do.
But if I have to read it one more time? I am going to cut my head off with a chainsaw. I am not kidding. It is that awful. And although I tried and tried and tried to steer him in the right direction, then even told him "you have an ugly baby" and it needs x, y, and z...he didn't want to hear it. He thought he knew better. The company I work for won't touch it with a ten-foot pole. If it were anyone but my friend, my favorite friend, I wouldn't touch it either.
He won't let me help him. And the fallout is going to be ugly. I just hope it doesn't hurt him too badly. He's worked on this for over 20 years. It hurts my heart to know that he's publishing a steaming pile and that I can't help him. Maybe he'll listen to me and we can get it fixed...I don't know. This is a horrible dilemma. No more doing work for friends. That's it. That's my new rule. Surgeon's don't work on family members for the same reason. You're too emotionally invested, you can't see clearly, and you can't speak honestly. At least not enough to be trusted by the person to whom you are being honest.
It's hard.
He does have a kickass cover. He found a great graphic designer, so there's that. *sigh*
I have a friend who wrote a book. This is my oldest, dearest, most loved friend. We've known each other since he was fourteen and I was sixteen. His parents thought we were going to get married. I thought we were, too. Then in his 20s, after he and I had toured Europe together and shared a room (chastely), he figured out that he was gay. My heart was broken, but my love for him changed from romantic to familial, and I love him very much. He's the guy I would call if my car broke down in the middle of the desert at 4am. And he would come and get me. And I would do the same for him. He's my dearest friend.
His book, however, has not been my friend. He has a great story, but it's written so badly that it is essentially a steaming pile of shit. He hired me--and already paid me--to edit his book. And he won't take suggestions. He's fought me every step of the way. About a year ago, I decided to quit fighting him, just make sure the mechanics were correct, and hope and pray he didn't put my name in the acknowledgements. *fingerscrossed*
SO I've edited it about five times, now, and I'm editing it one last time. And all the changes I made, in the mechanics, have been fucked with. Quotation marks moved or deleted. Commas added where none are needed. SO I'm fixing it. AGAIN. I'm not fixing it anymore after this.
Now he wants me to "read it" from beginning to end to check for flow and subtlety. On th ephone yesterday I told him that there was no point in doing that because I do that while I'm editing. Development editing is my specialty. I also told him that I'd like to deconstruct the whole thing and add in a pile of character development, but he doesn't want any character development (that's the thing I quit fighting him on). He's self-publishing; he can publish any pile of shit he wants. Lots of people do.
But if I have to read it one more time? I am going to cut my head off with a chainsaw. I am not kidding. It is that awful. And although I tried and tried and tried to steer him in the right direction, then even told him "you have an ugly baby" and it needs x, y, and z...he didn't want to hear it. He thought he knew better. The company I work for won't touch it with a ten-foot pole. If it were anyone but my friend, my favorite friend, I wouldn't touch it either.
He won't let me help him. And the fallout is going to be ugly. I just hope it doesn't hurt him too badly. He's worked on this for over 20 years. It hurts my heart to know that he's publishing a steaming pile and that I can't help him. Maybe he'll listen to me and we can get it fixed...I don't know. This is a horrible dilemma. No more doing work for friends. That's it. That's my new rule. Surgeon's don't work on family members for the same reason. You're too emotionally invested, you can't see clearly, and you can't speak honestly. At least not enough to be trusted by the person to whom you are being honest.
It's hard.
He does have a kickass cover. He found a great graphic designer, so there's that. *sigh*
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Getting Screwed by Clients, Part I
Three years ago, when I hooked up with my current employer (for whom I am a contractor, not an employee, but I have a freelance contract with them. I've been getting more business on my own, but the bulk of my business comes from this publishing house.).
I edited, laid out, selected the art, and basically designed the entire book for an author I like...for free. It was my test, implied and assumed, for being hired by this publisher because after I finished it,, jobs started rolling in.
Anyway, because I basically had to teach myself everything, at the time, it was worth doing for free. Plus, the author is so awesome and deserves publication. He promised that I could do his second book--paid, this time.
He was ready to go last summer. I told him that we would accept payments, but no, he wanted to pay in full in advance, as much as he could. So he had a crowdfunding fundraiser. He raised over $1,000 in about a month. After it was over, he asked me if we would take PayPal. I checked, the publisher would, but prefered not to because they would lose money on the fees; they preferred a check. He was fine with that and even offered to personally PayPal me a small percentage of the raised amount because he knew we could use it (as always). I gave him my PayPal email and we waited for the funds to be released in a week or so. I had his manuscript, I was making choices, I was ready to go.
I never heard from him again.
Well, not about the book. We're friends on Facebook and Twitter. And not one word about the book since July.
His wife, who does a lot of net marketing, abruptly went to a large convention for her line of work about a week or two after the funds would have been released. It would have required convention fees, flight, and hotel, not to mention food and so on. I think that's where the book money went.
Strangely, no one on Facebook has asked him, "When is your book coming out?"
I talked to my boss about it, and we both kind of shrugged, after all, he hadn't signed a contract.
So he fucked me out of the work and the pay, and more importantly, he fucked all his friends who donated money for a BOOK. My boss actually was the first donor with $50-. I think that's real shitty.
I have decided to no longer mix business with pleasure. My next story will reinforce this idea even more. You won't believe this next one, either. I can barely believe it.
I edited, laid out, selected the art, and basically designed the entire book for an author I like...for free. It was my test, implied and assumed, for being hired by this publisher because after I finished it,, jobs started rolling in.
Anyway, because I basically had to teach myself everything, at the time, it was worth doing for free. Plus, the author is so awesome and deserves publication. He promised that I could do his second book--paid, this time.
He was ready to go last summer. I told him that we would accept payments, but no, he wanted to pay in full in advance, as much as he could. So he had a crowdfunding fundraiser. He raised over $1,000 in about a month. After it was over, he asked me if we would take PayPal. I checked, the publisher would, but prefered not to because they would lose money on the fees; they preferred a check. He was fine with that and even offered to personally PayPal me a small percentage of the raised amount because he knew we could use it (as always). I gave him my PayPal email and we waited for the funds to be released in a week or so. I had his manuscript, I was making choices, I was ready to go.
I never heard from him again.
Well, not about the book. We're friends on Facebook and Twitter. And not one word about the book since July.
His wife, who does a lot of net marketing, abruptly went to a large convention for her line of work about a week or two after the funds would have been released. It would have required convention fees, flight, and hotel, not to mention food and so on. I think that's where the book money went.
Strangely, no one on Facebook has asked him, "When is your book coming out?"
I talked to my boss about it, and we both kind of shrugged, after all, he hadn't signed a contract.
So he fucked me out of the work and the pay, and more importantly, he fucked all his friends who donated money for a BOOK. My boss actually was the first donor with $50-. I think that's real shitty.
I have decided to no longer mix business with pleasure. My next story will reinforce this idea even more. You won't believe this next one, either. I can barely believe it.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Rant No. 1 | My Husband is Lazy and Often a Jerk
*sigh*
After experiencing some really good months, over a year, of marriage, and being able to rely and depend on my husband in ways I never could before, in the last month or so he has devolved into idiocy, assholery, and his usual state, laziness.
My husband is on the autism spectrum. For a while I thought he had Asperger's, but now I'm not so sure. He's never been assessed, refusing to be assessed, so no one knows just where he falls on the spectrum. He is a very concrete thinker, and because of this, does some weird things sometimes. Things that don't make sense. Recently, as his folks' house over Thanksgiving, he started a fire on a piece of furniture.
His mother asked him to light all the candles in the living room and dining room, and which he did.
As we were waiting for dinner, having coffee or, in my case, champagne, his brother suddenly noticed that the hutch of a dish cabinet was on fire. There was a pair of candles on either side of a mantle clock on the center shelf of the wood hutch. Instead of moving them forward, away from the shelf which partially covered the middle shelf, he lit them and walked away. Within 20 minutes, they had caught the top shelf on fire in both places. Fortunately his brother caught it--flames were shooting out from the middle shelf--got it put out, and put water on it to stop the smoldering.
*ugh*
Lack of common sense? It seems like it, but the reality is, he had been told to light the candles, nothing more. So he did that, and nothing more. That's how his brain works and it's SO frustrating.
About a month ago, a local store had organic free-range chickens, whole chickens, on sale: Buy one get one free. We went over that night and got two--the last two--and some other groceries. We were carrying them and I realized one of the chickens was leaking all over. I didn't want to bring it in the house dripping (salmonella) all over, so I set it down, and asked my husband who was walking past me into the house to get me a fresh bag from under the sink so I could carry it in.
Instead of one of the grocery bags under the sink, he brought me, where I waited in the front yard, a 13 gallon kitchen trash bag. "No!" I said, frustrated. "Just a grocery bag."
"Well, you didn't say grocery bag."
I kept my mouth quiet and came into the house sans dripping chicken to get a bag. I gave him the smaller grocery bag and asked him if he would go retrieve the chicken and bring it in the house while I put the groceries away (something he has trouble doing. He puts things wherever and I can never find them.)
"Where is the chicken?" he asked, despite having walked by me initially and bringing me a trash bag out front.
"By the front door!" I said, exasperated. I then watched in frustrated anger as he went out of the kitchen, into the family room, and out the sliding back door.
"Not that door!" I yelled. "The front door."
"Well, you didn't specify!"
"Why did I have to? You walked by me as I put the chicken on the grass in the front yard, and then brought me a trash bag to the same spot!"
"But you didn't say. I went to the closest door."
"Did you see either me or a chicken at that door?"
"But you didn't specify. You have to be specific with me!"
I yelled back (he was yelling), "I didn't think I had to. You walked by me and the chicken on the front lawn, then brought me a trash bag. Did you at any point see me or the chicken enter or exit the back door?"
"That's not the point, you didn't specify..." and he just continued to argue with me. By this time, I was ready to smother him with a pillow. But I resisted.
To your average person, it would seem like a lack of common sense, and maybe it is, but unless you give him explicit instructions, he'll fuck it up every time.
Him: Where's the dishsoap?
Me: Under the kitchen sink, left side by the sponges, it's pink.
I can't just say "under the sink." He'll start with the closest sink and tell me he can't find it. It's EXHAUSTING.
He's also lazy as hell. I don't think he'd pick up his own dick if it fell on the floor. He won't pick up anything. it doesn't matter how it fell, how it got there, who did it, whatever, he just steps over it an keeps going. It's especially frustrating for me because I have severe back problems and bending over is always painful and lasting.
I've spent most of our marriage wanting to run away, get away. For a long time I thought it was me, my pathological need to run at any problem, but I think I may be wrong. I think it might be my subconscious trying to tell me that I made a huge mistake. I'm still not sure.
We went to his parents for Thanksgiving, and on the long drive home I got thirsty. We were looking for somewhere to have dinner and the areas were unfamiliar to us, and he refused to buy me a $2.00 soda because he "didn't want to buy two drinks." What he meant was a drink now and then a drink wherever we have dinner.
This the guy who steals soda from help-yourself fountains--he pays for a cup, fills it, takes it out to the car and gets his second, empty cup from that location (the car is full of plastic, over-sized fast food cups *UGH*), and fills it up with soda. He'll also stop at that particular fast food place, at another location, and refill that cup without paying. He cannot go anywhere without a big cup of soda in his hand--the store, the doctor, the car, anywhere. If he goes more than five minutes without a drink, he gets crazy. But when I was thirsty and wanted a drink? He refused to buy it for me. I didn't have $2.00 because I don't have an income. I can't believe what an asshole thing that was to do. I'm very pissed about it.
Then, on Monday, he got his check cashed and headed to the biggest city in the area, and that had a Trader Joe's, so I could get some specialty food, especially for Christmas baking, and then to a big grocery store that I like and don't have one by our home, to stock up with things I wasn't able to get. First, I needed to stop at Walmart to pick up a prescription and he needed to get a money order for the rent (landlord's request, M/O only.).
He was to get the money order and meet me at the pharmacy or vice versa, depending on who finished first. Before I even got to the pharmacy, he was behind me pinching my back. "Did you get the money order?"
"Oh, I forgot. I'll get it. I'm hungry."
"There's a grocery store in here, get something to eat."
"OK, I'll meet you back over here."
As I was finishing up in line, paying for my pills and some Christmas candles I'd picked up, he came over saying "I had a chocolate milk."
"Did you get the money order?"
"Oops. I forgot."
*fume*
"Get it now." Our rent was due on the third, the next day, and our landlady is also a teacher AND the union president. "Jane will be expecting it tomorrow." DUH. He felt and does not feel any sense of propriety or urgency regarding rent paying.
So he went over to the money center at Malwart and got into what was now a very long line. I was able to circle the entire store, shopping, looking around, wandering, and he was just at the head of the line when I got back to the front of the store. So about an hour wasted because he couldn't remember to do the one thing he'd gone there for: Get a money order.
So we left, and instead of heading to the freeway to head to the big city, he decides to take back roads that he "saw on a map" which essentially added about an hour to our trip. So we're now about two hours behind schedule. Trader Joe's closes at 9pm, and it's pushing 6pm and we're not even in the same city. My ass started to clench up.
Then he started whining about food and how he'd only had a chocolate milk. "Why didn't you get something at Mallwart?"
"I couldn't find anything."
"It's a grocery store," I said, exasperated. "How about a banana? A chocolate bar? Granola bars?" He had no answer.
Instead, he got off the freeway trying to find a restaurant we had once eaten at during our move. Couldn't find it. So he decides to drive around and see what he can see. It's after 7pm. I suggested fast food. It was payday, and by god he was going to have a decent meal, dammit!
We ended up at a sportsbar chain as he wanted wings, his favorite food, and to watch football. Did he tell me he wanted to do this? No. Because I could have left him there, gone shopping, and picked him up. No, instead he orders about $30- of wings, salad, and a drink, I ordered some jalapeno poppers for an appetizer, I had had some chili before we left (which he won't eat as it had turkey meat in it. Don't even ask.). By the time we finished, it was 8:30. by the time we got to Trader Joe's, it was 8:45. I had fifteen minutes to do a month or more of shopping. FUCK. I was SO pissed. I was so pissed I bought stuff that wasn't even on my list because I wanted HIM to pay for screwing me out of MY time; things like balsamic glaze. I then bought stuff at the big grocery store, taking my time as my husband made trip after trip after trip to the bathroom or to the soda machine. (He has irritable bowel, always exacerbated by fried foods. Doesn't keep him from eating it, tho.).
He also does no housework. he has a full time job and I don't, so fine, I'll do the housework, but he makes not even the tiniest step toward mitigating his messes--dirty dishes go on the sink or counter even if there's room in the dishwasher; dirty clothes go on the floor of "his" bedroom. We have three bedrooms, ea share one and each have a bedroom to do with as we wish. Fine, but if you want your laundry done, you need to pick it up, put it in a basket, and carry it out to the garage. Bad back, here, remember? He puts his dirty lunch dishes--lunches I make. He has to have a hot lunch--on the clean dining room table or on the floor or his folding table desk in the living room. I live with a pig. He's pushing 50. You'd think his frat boy college day slobbiness. Nope. When I go to get in bed at night, typically there are no covers for me. I've asked him to fix the covers before he gets in to make sure I have some covers, and he has no idea what that means. Last night, after I turned on the overhead light after I had turned on my four watt nightstand light so I wouldn't trip later, before a pre-bed shower, and he had turned it back off!!!, I said, "the bed is square, the blankets are square, figure it out."
If the blankets on your side are on the floor, and there are none past the center of the bed toward my side,, what do you think needs to happen? I nearly came out to the living room to sleep in a reclining chair.
I'm so frustrated and so tired and so annoyed having to constantly double guess whether or not he understands and/or is doing what he needs to do. Saying he's difficult or a challenge, is like saying driving without your glasses is challenging. It's almost impossible.
I don't know if I want to be married anymore. To anyone. If I had the money, I'd take off for a few days to a hotel on the beach, that's for damn sure. I almost did last night when I saw my night lamp had been turned off. Honest to goodness.
This rant has worn me out. Rant II will have to wait for another day.
After experiencing some really good months, over a year, of marriage, and being able to rely and depend on my husband in ways I never could before, in the last month or so he has devolved into idiocy, assholery, and his usual state, laziness.
My husband is on the autism spectrum. For a while I thought he had Asperger's, but now I'm not so sure. He's never been assessed, refusing to be assessed, so no one knows just where he falls on the spectrum. He is a very concrete thinker, and because of this, does some weird things sometimes. Things that don't make sense. Recently, as his folks' house over Thanksgiving, he started a fire on a piece of furniture.
His mother asked him to light all the candles in the living room and dining room, and which he did.
As we were waiting for dinner, having coffee or, in my case, champagne, his brother suddenly noticed that the hutch of a dish cabinet was on fire. There was a pair of candles on either side of a mantle clock on the center shelf of the wood hutch. Instead of moving them forward, away from the shelf which partially covered the middle shelf, he lit them and walked away. Within 20 minutes, they had caught the top shelf on fire in both places. Fortunately his brother caught it--flames were shooting out from the middle shelf--got it put out, and put water on it to stop the smoldering.
*ugh*
Lack of common sense? It seems like it, but the reality is, he had been told to light the candles, nothing more. So he did that, and nothing more. That's how his brain works and it's SO frustrating.
About a month ago, a local store had organic free-range chickens, whole chickens, on sale: Buy one get one free. We went over that night and got two--the last two--and some other groceries. We were carrying them and I realized one of the chickens was leaking all over. I didn't want to bring it in the house dripping (salmonella) all over, so I set it down, and asked my husband who was walking past me into the house to get me a fresh bag from under the sink so I could carry it in.
Instead of one of the grocery bags under the sink, he brought me, where I waited in the front yard, a 13 gallon kitchen trash bag. "No!" I said, frustrated. "Just a grocery bag."
"Well, you didn't say grocery bag."
I kept my mouth quiet and came into the house sans dripping chicken to get a bag. I gave him the smaller grocery bag and asked him if he would go retrieve the chicken and bring it in the house while I put the groceries away (something he has trouble doing. He puts things wherever and I can never find them.)
"Where is the chicken?" he asked, despite having walked by me initially and bringing me a trash bag out front.
"By the front door!" I said, exasperated. I then watched in frustrated anger as he went out of the kitchen, into the family room, and out the sliding back door.
"Not that door!" I yelled. "The front door."
"Well, you didn't specify!"
"Why did I have to? You walked by me as I put the chicken on the grass in the front yard, and then brought me a trash bag to the same spot!"
"But you didn't say. I went to the closest door."
"Did you see either me or a chicken at that door?"
"But you didn't specify. You have to be specific with me!"
I yelled back (he was yelling), "I didn't think I had to. You walked by me and the chicken on the front lawn, then brought me a trash bag. Did you at any point see me or the chicken enter or exit the back door?"
"That's not the point, you didn't specify..." and he just continued to argue with me. By this time, I was ready to smother him with a pillow. But I resisted.
To your average person, it would seem like a lack of common sense, and maybe it is, but unless you give him explicit instructions, he'll fuck it up every time.
Him: Where's the dishsoap?
Me: Under the kitchen sink, left side by the sponges, it's pink.
I can't just say "under the sink." He'll start with the closest sink and tell me he can't find it. It's EXHAUSTING.
He's also lazy as hell. I don't think he'd pick up his own dick if it fell on the floor. He won't pick up anything. it doesn't matter how it fell, how it got there, who did it, whatever, he just steps over it an keeps going. It's especially frustrating for me because I have severe back problems and bending over is always painful and lasting.
I've spent most of our marriage wanting to run away, get away. For a long time I thought it was me, my pathological need to run at any problem, but I think I may be wrong. I think it might be my subconscious trying to tell me that I made a huge mistake. I'm still not sure.
We went to his parents for Thanksgiving, and on the long drive home I got thirsty. We were looking for somewhere to have dinner and the areas were unfamiliar to us, and he refused to buy me a $2.00 soda because he "didn't want to buy two drinks." What he meant was a drink now and then a drink wherever we have dinner.
This the guy who steals soda from help-yourself fountains--he pays for a cup, fills it, takes it out to the car and gets his second, empty cup from that location (the car is full of plastic, over-sized fast food cups *UGH*), and fills it up with soda. He'll also stop at that particular fast food place, at another location, and refill that cup without paying. He cannot go anywhere without a big cup of soda in his hand--the store, the doctor, the car, anywhere. If he goes more than five minutes without a drink, he gets crazy. But when I was thirsty and wanted a drink? He refused to buy it for me. I didn't have $2.00 because I don't have an income. I can't believe what an asshole thing that was to do. I'm very pissed about it.
Then, on Monday, he got his check cashed and headed to the biggest city in the area, and that had a Trader Joe's, so I could get some specialty food, especially for Christmas baking, and then to a big grocery store that I like and don't have one by our home, to stock up with things I wasn't able to get. First, I needed to stop at Walmart to pick up a prescription and he needed to get a money order for the rent (landlord's request, M/O only.).
He was to get the money order and meet me at the pharmacy or vice versa, depending on who finished first. Before I even got to the pharmacy, he was behind me pinching my back. "Did you get the money order?"
"Oh, I forgot. I'll get it. I'm hungry."
"There's a grocery store in here, get something to eat."
"OK, I'll meet you back over here."
As I was finishing up in line, paying for my pills and some Christmas candles I'd picked up, he came over saying "I had a chocolate milk."
"Did you get the money order?"
"Oops. I forgot."
*fume*
"Get it now." Our rent was due on the third, the next day, and our landlady is also a teacher AND the union president. "Jane will be expecting it tomorrow." DUH. He felt and does not feel any sense of propriety or urgency regarding rent paying.
So he went over to the money center at Malwart and got into what was now a very long line. I was able to circle the entire store, shopping, looking around, wandering, and he was just at the head of the line when I got back to the front of the store. So about an hour wasted because he couldn't remember to do the one thing he'd gone there for: Get a money order.
So we left, and instead of heading to the freeway to head to the big city, he decides to take back roads that he "saw on a map" which essentially added about an hour to our trip. So we're now about two hours behind schedule. Trader Joe's closes at 9pm, and it's pushing 6pm and we're not even in the same city. My ass started to clench up.
Then he started whining about food and how he'd only had a chocolate milk. "Why didn't you get something at Mallwart?"
"I couldn't find anything."
"It's a grocery store," I said, exasperated. "How about a banana? A chocolate bar? Granola bars?" He had no answer.
Instead, he got off the freeway trying to find a restaurant we had once eaten at during our move. Couldn't find it. So he decides to drive around and see what he can see. It's after 7pm. I suggested fast food. It was payday, and by god he was going to have a decent meal, dammit!
We ended up at a sportsbar chain as he wanted wings, his favorite food, and to watch football. Did he tell me he wanted to do this? No. Because I could have left him there, gone shopping, and picked him up. No, instead he orders about $30- of wings, salad, and a drink, I ordered some jalapeno poppers for an appetizer, I had had some chili before we left (which he won't eat as it had turkey meat in it. Don't even ask.). By the time we finished, it was 8:30. by the time we got to Trader Joe's, it was 8:45. I had fifteen minutes to do a month or more of shopping. FUCK. I was SO pissed. I was so pissed I bought stuff that wasn't even on my list because I wanted HIM to pay for screwing me out of MY time; things like balsamic glaze. I then bought stuff at the big grocery store, taking my time as my husband made trip after trip after trip to the bathroom or to the soda machine. (He has irritable bowel, always exacerbated by fried foods. Doesn't keep him from eating it, tho.).
He also does no housework. he has a full time job and I don't, so fine, I'll do the housework, but he makes not even the tiniest step toward mitigating his messes--dirty dishes go on the sink or counter even if there's room in the dishwasher; dirty clothes go on the floor of "his" bedroom. We have three bedrooms, ea share one and each have a bedroom to do with as we wish. Fine, but if you want your laundry done, you need to pick it up, put it in a basket, and carry it out to the garage. Bad back, here, remember? He puts his dirty lunch dishes--lunches I make. He has to have a hot lunch--on the clean dining room table or on the floor or his folding table desk in the living room. I live with a pig. He's pushing 50. You'd think his frat boy college day slobbiness. Nope. When I go to get in bed at night, typically there are no covers for me. I've asked him to fix the covers before he gets in to make sure I have some covers, and he has no idea what that means. Last night, after I turned on the overhead light after I had turned on my four watt nightstand light so I wouldn't trip later, before a pre-bed shower, and he had turned it back off!!!, I said, "the bed is square, the blankets are square, figure it out."
If the blankets on your side are on the floor, and there are none past the center of the bed toward my side,, what do you think needs to happen? I nearly came out to the living room to sleep in a reclining chair.
I'm so frustrated and so tired and so annoyed having to constantly double guess whether or not he understands and/or is doing what he needs to do. Saying he's difficult or a challenge, is like saying driving without your glasses is challenging. It's almost impossible.
I don't know if I want to be married anymore. To anyone. If I had the money, I'd take off for a few days to a hotel on the beach, that's for damn sure. I almost did last night when I saw my night lamp had been turned off. Honest to goodness.
This rant has worn me out. Rant II will have to wait for another day.
Five Months
A lot can happen in five months. A lot HAS.
I'm not going to detail it--that would take way too much time--so I'm going to put it into a list because I have two blog posts of bitching I want to detail out and post. Let's get started, shall we?
1. In July...my husband's unemployment, our only source of income, was cut off after they decided to do an audit of his account. We survived on donations and weekly church food baskets. We never knew what we were going to get, but someone who donated liked Trader Joe's, and although many of the items were due to expire either the day we received them or within a few days, if we froze them, we could eat them. Other, non-freezable items were eaten first or would abruptly go bad.
The State finally figured it out and got us all caught up at the end of July, in time to pay August rent. Whew.
2. The first week of August, my husband got a job. Finally. At last. No one else wanted it, evidently. It's in a shit town, in a shit location, but at a school that mostly has its act together (he's a teacher), so we had to move. Somewhere we'd never been nor wanted to be, Central California. It's not as bad as I expected, but it's nowhere near what we're accustomed to. We cope.
3. We rented a really nice 3 BR, 2 BA with family room home with a huge yard. It's more than we should be paying on his salary, but we're stuck with a lease so I intend to enjoy our time here.
4. Our former landlord in the redneck, motorcycle headquarters, pot growing,, meth cooking town in the mountains we lived at for 3 months, refused to give us back our deposit saying that the next tenants complained of "cat smell." Hmm. There was no "cat smell" at our condo in Nevada where we lived over 3 years. Huh. We were going to sue then decided to hell with it. Life goes on. $500- flushed.
5. I was SO exhausted by mid-October that I could barely walk. R dragged me to the ER who diagnosed me with anemia. I was put on ferrous sulfate--iron--tables, and within a week I was feeling well enough to actually do stuff, like laundry, showers, and cooking. I continue to feel better and do more every day. I bed I was anemic for a long, long time.
6. My husband makes enough for us to cover our monthly bills, buy groceries and gas for his commute (we didn't want to be anywhere near the shit town he actually works in), but at the end of the month there's not a lot left over. In fact, usually nothing. We have no savings, still.
7. What we do have is AWESOME health insurance. It cannot be overstated how fucking great that is. We are both taking advantage of that and getting stuff taken care of that we let go for too long.
8. Work for me has slowed down, so I've not had much income. I finally got paid for that big job from last summer and we used all of it to move--deposit on house, trip south to look at houses, rental truck, etc. I think I got a pedicure and a purse and the rest was zip, bang, gone for other stuff.
9. I'm no further on any of my writings as I work on getting better, getting our stuff in order, and daily chores of cooking and cleaning. Now I know why we lived in such a mess in Reno; I didn't do any cleaning. My husband wouldn't pick up...well, this is going to be devoted a full post of its own.
10. I am generally at peace with my life. There is more I'd like to have and do--friends, a book group, travel, etc., but in general, I am very comfortable. And I feel safe.
That's it for now. Thanks for hanging in while I went through this time of huge changes.
Peace.
I'm not going to detail it--that would take way too much time--so I'm going to put it into a list because I have two blog posts of bitching I want to detail out and post. Let's get started, shall we?
1. In July...my husband's unemployment, our only source of income, was cut off after they decided to do an audit of his account. We survived on donations and weekly church food baskets. We never knew what we were going to get, but someone who donated liked Trader Joe's, and although many of the items were due to expire either the day we received them or within a few days, if we froze them, we could eat them. Other, non-freezable items were eaten first or would abruptly go bad.
The State finally figured it out and got us all caught up at the end of July, in time to pay August rent. Whew.
2. The first week of August, my husband got a job. Finally. At last. No one else wanted it, evidently. It's in a shit town, in a shit location, but at a school that mostly has its act together (he's a teacher), so we had to move. Somewhere we'd never been nor wanted to be, Central California. It's not as bad as I expected, but it's nowhere near what we're accustomed to. We cope.
3. We rented a really nice 3 BR, 2 BA with family room home with a huge yard. It's more than we should be paying on his salary, but we're stuck with a lease so I intend to enjoy our time here.
4. Our former landlord in the redneck, motorcycle headquarters, pot growing,, meth cooking town in the mountains we lived at for 3 months, refused to give us back our deposit saying that the next tenants complained of "cat smell." Hmm. There was no "cat smell" at our condo in Nevada where we lived over 3 years. Huh. We were going to sue then decided to hell with it. Life goes on. $500- flushed.
5. I was SO exhausted by mid-October that I could barely walk. R dragged me to the ER who diagnosed me with anemia. I was put on ferrous sulfate--iron--tables, and within a week I was feeling well enough to actually do stuff, like laundry, showers, and cooking. I continue to feel better and do more every day. I bed I was anemic for a long, long time.
6. My husband makes enough for us to cover our monthly bills, buy groceries and gas for his commute (we didn't want to be anywhere near the shit town he actually works in), but at the end of the month there's not a lot left over. In fact, usually nothing. We have no savings, still.
7. What we do have is AWESOME health insurance. It cannot be overstated how fucking great that is. We are both taking advantage of that and getting stuff taken care of that we let go for too long.
8. Work for me has slowed down, so I've not had much income. I finally got paid for that big job from last summer and we used all of it to move--deposit on house, trip south to look at houses, rental truck, etc. I think I got a pedicure and a purse and the rest was zip, bang, gone for other stuff.
9. I'm no further on any of my writings as I work on getting better, getting our stuff in order, and daily chores of cooking and cleaning. Now I know why we lived in such a mess in Reno; I didn't do any cleaning. My husband wouldn't pick up...well, this is going to be devoted a full post of its own.
10. I am generally at peace with my life. There is more I'd like to have and do--friends, a book group, travel, etc., but in general, I am very comfortable. And I feel safe.
That's it for now. Thanks for hanging in while I went through this time of huge changes.
Peace.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Just...
I'm so tired.
And achy.
And broke.
I've been waiting for my husband to step up to the employment / income plate, but it's just not happening. I don't know why. He's had a lot, A LOT of interviews, but no offers.
I'm thinking....I may have to get an actual go-to-the-office (or coffee stand? or retail outlet?) to make some money because man...things are bad here. But honestly, I don't know if I have the energy to hold down something full-time. Maybe I could do it for a short time?
I've got several thousand dollars in the freelance pipeline, but who knows when I'll get it? We need it NOW.
I'm tired of picking through the couch cushions for change because we're out of milk. This is no way to live in a first-world nation.
I'm so tired.
And achy.
And broke.
I've been waiting for my husband to step up to the employment / income plate, but it's just not happening. I don't know why. He's had a lot, A LOT of interviews, but no offers.
I'm thinking....I may have to get an actual go-to-the-office (or coffee stand? or retail outlet?) to make some money because man...things are bad here. But honestly, I don't know if I have the energy to hold down something full-time. Maybe I could do it for a short time?
I've got several thousand dollars in the freelance pipeline, but who knows when I'll get it? We need it NOW.
I'm tired of picking through the couch cushions for change because we're out of milk. This is no way to live in a first-world nation.
I'm so tired.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
*Sigh*
I didn't realize I hadn't posted here since May. Lots going on. But mostly I came to bitch and whine about the company I do work for.
On June 21, I sent an invoice for the end of a project. It was worth $1300-. On July 12th, I was looking for the email with the invoice to determine what date I had sent it, and should I start looking for a check. I found the email, but nothing was attached!! (I later found a second email with the invoice attached.) So I emailed the owner of the company who told me, "I'm just doing invoicing today (July 16)."
Huh?
Turns out, the owner's computer had died and had been in the shop for three weeks, and they had been unable to retrieve any email. Despite having an iPad, an iPhone, a Kindle, a Nook, and a netbook. I don't get it either. If your computer died, wouldn't you let your employees and friends know that you're unreachable, and anything important they sent they need to re-send? These same owners also like to go out of town or vacation or otherwise out of touch but never tell us in advance.
So my invoice was just billed on Tuesday. July 16. Almost a month later. Uh...yeah.
Also, just found out the company had a contest with the winner getting editing, e-conversion, and print layout for free. No, no one told me. The contest was held in Texas by another one of our contractor's (like me). Huh. And one of my big clients with this company, was complaining to me about the poor communication taking place at the organization. Uh, yeah. He wants me to keep doing work for him, but I have a non-compete contract right now. It expires in January. We'll see how it goes.
Then....a new client a friend brought to me--so I want to make a good impression, right?--I've been pestering the owner for a contract for this guy for over six weeks. Probably more like eight. In addition to the six weeks we made the client, who is in his 80s!, wait for a decision as to whether or not we would accept his project. A month for the first publisher who then told me the second also need to approve it (since when?). Another three more weeks. The poor guy. What the fuck?
The client is so pissed, he wants me to handle it and not go through this other company who I am contracted with. I honestly can't blame him.
This happened at the same time as my husband's state un employ ment claim was halted while they wait to interview him some time next week. No warning. So we have $0- money right now. We got some food at a food bank and a church last week, or we'd be eating canned corn and tomato puree. Seriously. Is there ever a bad time to have your money fucked up? But when we're both fucked up at the same time? It's just not good.
So. I took an opionion poll of smart people who I trust, and I think in 2014, providing I meet some milestones, I am going to start my own business. I cannot rely on such unstable, badly managed business practices. I know it's not done with malice, but simply by an overwhelming amount of work, but it doesn't work for me. I'll continue working for this company, but my plan is to have my primary income come from my clients. It's time.
I'll be back after it cools off. Yuck. Hot.
Huh?
Turns out, the owner's computer had died and had been in the shop for three weeks, and they had been unable to retrieve any email. Despite having an iPad, an iPhone, a Kindle, a Nook, and a netbook. I don't get it either. If your computer died, wouldn't you let your employees and friends know that you're unreachable, and anything important they sent they need to re-send? These same owners also like to go out of town or vacation or otherwise out of touch but never tell us in advance.
So my invoice was just billed on Tuesday. July 16. Almost a month later. Uh...yeah.
Also, just found out the company had a contest with the winner getting editing, e-conversion, and print layout for free. No, no one told me. The contest was held in Texas by another one of our contractor's (like me). Huh. And one of my big clients with this company, was complaining to me about the poor communication taking place at the organization. Uh, yeah. He wants me to keep doing work for him, but I have a non-compete contract right now. It expires in January. We'll see how it goes.
Then....a new client a friend brought to me--so I want to make a good impression, right?--I've been pestering the owner for a contract for this guy for over six weeks. Probably more like eight. In addition to the six weeks we made the client, who is in his 80s!, wait for a decision as to whether or not we would accept his project. A month for the first publisher who then told me the second also need to approve it (since when?). Another three more weeks. The poor guy. What the fuck?
The client is so pissed, he wants me to handle it and not go through this other company who I am contracted with. I honestly can't blame him.
This happened at the same time as my husband's state un employ ment claim was halted while they wait to interview him some time next week. No warning. So we have $0- money right now. We got some food at a food bank and a church last week, or we'd be eating canned corn and tomato puree. Seriously. Is there ever a bad time to have your money fucked up? But when we're both fucked up at the same time? It's just not good.
So. I took an opionion poll of smart people who I trust, and I think in 2014, providing I meet some milestones, I am going to start my own business. I cannot rely on such unstable, badly managed business practices. I know it's not done with malice, but simply by an overwhelming amount of work, but it doesn't work for me. I'll continue working for this company, but my plan is to have my primary income come from my clients. It's time.
I'll be back after it cools off. Yuck. Hot.
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