The Rant of the Wet Pants

2002-06-02 - 11:48 p.m.

A conversation had before I took my nap, held over a load of laundry.

"Oh, hey, those are my pants."

"It's okay, I'll have them dry before you go to work."

"You sure? 'Cause those are all of our pants."

"Yep. No problem."

"Great! Clean Pants!"

A conversation held after waking up from my nap.

"Did you dry the pants?"

"I think so."

"Um...actually,um, they're still in the washer."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Guess it's wet jeans for me."

"Is this your way of being passive aggressive?"

Perhaps my tone did not lend itself to the regular joyousness of discovering that one will be soggy for their work shift. And somehow, we've made an appointment to discuss the possibility of my taking a school credit in the Fall, if only to alleviate my burning jealousy (note to self: never, ever admit to even the smallest amount of negative emotion (ie "Sometimes I'm jealous when exam time comes around...") because it will become a focal point of any and all discussions in the future) at his doing something.

You know what I plan to bring up? The fact that if he plans to not work, -and- to complain about us being poor in the fall, there is NO WAY I can work 30 hours a week doing the midnight shift and then take even one class. And have time to see him ( which is upsetting to both of us, you know, not just him). And have time to write. And sleep.

And you know what? I am -perfectly happy- with NOT being stressed all the time, and not having every minute of my day accounted for, and not having to get by on 6 hours of sleep a night. I am happy with slacking off and having weekends in my underwear, and sitting around doing nothing for hours at a time.

No, this is not my ideal lifestyle, and no I don't plan to be a customer service rep for the rest of my life, but I don't plan to live with the suggested alternative, either, which is being so busy I can't keep my head on straight. Just because you can't say no to responsibility does not mean that I have to pick up the slack.

And you know what? Two years ago, you were unhappy because -you- made more money than -me- and you felt I wasn't carrying my weight then. Now you're unhappy because I make all the money and you don't feel secure? You can't have it both ways.

And the worst thing...you never read anything I write unless I shove it under your nose and say "read it, or else" or unless it's some sacrine love poem to celebrate our aniversary, so I can be reasonably certain that you'll never see me being fairly articulate about what I'm upset about, and what I will let strangers read but might not tell you to your face.

You know about this site, and I make no secret about it.

And wearing wet freakin' pants has ruined my day.

Cheers,

The Magus

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