I was freaked out because when I woke up to my 5am alarm, I also woke up to a startled shout, from Doc. He had gotten off work early and come home, come in quietly and not woken me up, as I have begged him to do in the past. It is REALLY disconcerting to me to wake up to someone sitting on the next couch with a whiskey drink watching something dumb and loud on TV, and I slept through it. It completely throws me off. It's like riding the bus when it is crowded, or someone coming into the bathroom when I am in the shower. It freaks me the fuck out and traumatizes me. I guess you could call it PTSD, though I don't like taking that away from Veterans.
So, that is how I woke up. I went outside to have a smoke and get my head together in silence and when I came back in, 6.5 minutes later, he was laying down and snoring. So I went into my room and cleaned up the pile of clothes that were mixed dirty with clean. Then I washed them all. Doc had laundry in the wash, done, so I hung it up outside to dry while I washed my clothes. I was sitting outside when he woke up a few hours later and I was about to take down and fold his now-dry clothes and he comes out and asks if I re-rinsed them. I said no, I had no idea what he was talking about (apparently he believes our brand new high efficiency washing machine is incapable of rinsing the tiny amount of soap we use out of the clothe in the two rinses it goes through normally - but then again, I had to spend a half an hour today convincing him that styrofoam isn't recyclable, he's losing his damn mind). So I took down all the clothes and put them back in the washer and told him he could go do whatever he needed to do.
I am reminded of a line from my favorite series, "Farscape", "Why so complicated?!"
Later he started mocking me with his "retard" voice again and I actually threw my glass pipe, I was so pissed. That was the very thing he denied doing yesterday. I took my phone and a handful of cigarettes and went outside and called Kelli and confessed my murderous intentions. I stayed on the phone long enough for Doc to go back to sleep for work. Then I took a nap until it was time to get up and get him up and ready for work. And I was pissed as hell at him. But I didn't show it. Frankly I'm tired of fighting. I'm going back to not talking unless really necessary.
And I'm sure after all these years, you are all shouting at the screen for me to just make peace, and suck it up, princess. I really am a whiner. I've got to stop.
I got peeped on the other night. Topless dish washing (modest bra, no shirt), with the blinds not-quite-closed. My bad. I know there are instabilities in the neighborhood. I will be more careful.
I'll be premiering a painting this week, hopefully. This laptop is fuckered. It can still be used for internet and some light photo work. Doc asked me to find one online that we can order or pick up. Oddly, because of Back to School, WallyWorld had the deal I was looking for. Same specs and features as this one, while only losing an inch and a half of screen space. If the stars align and my naked dancing and chanting of Bukowski's "2 Flies" while burning Nag Champa works, I will be up to my elbows in Adobe software by the end of the week.
I'm not going to ask that Doc admit that he broke this computer by playing that stupid game, even when it kept making the laptop overheat, he'd just let it cool down and start playing again. I almost inferred it and he growled something at me, and I just decided to let it go. He's doing the right thing and replacing it. And the hours he's home, he'll be using the new one, not me. I'll only use it during my working hours, while he's sleeping and out working.
Okay, time to relax and watch TV for an hour and then going to bed.