The other day, The Mister came into the living room, set his morning coffee down, and yanked out the cushions on his sofa.
In a deep, gruff voice, I said, “I am man. I wake up and immediately destroy things!”
He switched the cushions, realigned them, and sat down.
I said in my sweet lil voice, “I am woman. I wake up and immediately nurture things.”
This is true, although I nurture things in the morning like a trance monster. It’s not as much an act of love as much as it is rote.
He doesn’t actually destroy things in the morning, but he is certainly brusque and curt. ‘On the warpath’ is the proper phrasing.
My regular readers know; it’s better if The Mister and I don’t speak to one another in the morning.
We argued last night. By argue, I mean, I thought my husband was being a dick, he wouldn’t apologize, so I gave him the look and left the room. I didn’t sleep a wink. With a sorta mixture of fascination and loathing, I watched him sleep instead. He’s like, really good at sleeping. I watched as the flying fucks danced over his head.
Since I was up when he woke, I thought I’d kill him with kindness.
“Your lunch is in the fridge. You like I make you some coffee?”
How you sposta kill people with kindness when they don’t even want coffee?
I assume he feared poison.
No morning kiss.
“Love you!” I shouted.
“Or not. Whatever.” I laughed a lil bit.
Y’all, even with a lot of sleep, my energy supply doesn’t allow me to waste fucks on negative bullshit. I ate some pistachios and drank some tea and then I slept a whopping three hours.
I don’t know what he destroyed this morning, but he felt too unwell to stay at work.
“How did me being mad at you turn into you being mad at me?” I asked.
“I’ve always been mad at you.”
“Since, like 1987?”
“Is that when it started?” He smirked.
He gave Sassy an apology and he sleeps again, but on the couch now.
I’m going to leave the room again, leave Jake Destroyer of Worlds. The milk is light, the girls wanna bake cookies, Sassy needs new trainers. We all have our roles. Today mine include acquiring nurturing, supportive provisions. AKA counting Kohl’s cash and going to the goddamned grocery store.
Sometimes, because former military spouse, people say, have said to me, “It takes such a strong person to stay behind and hold the family together,” and I know what they mean. But I know a lot more than what they mean.
Sometimes, I sleep and he lies awake. Sometimes I freak out and he stays patient.
Every partnership is composed of someone holding the shit together while the other loses it. There are no auditions, it’s all impromptu. We know that although our strengths lie in one area, now and again, we’re thrust into the other and we do what we have to do.
In this case, I must shop and he must sleep and later there will be coffee and cookies.
Happy Friday Everyone!