Today when I was in cleaning, I noticed that while a couple of hair balls were still in the waste basket, all of the tissues were gone. At first I thought that one of the animals was making off with them, but the hair was untouched. So, when Doc got up for work, I asked him about it.
Me: This may sound weird, but I noticed that all the tissues in my waste basket are missing.
Him: *laughing* I took them out and put them in the "burn bag".
Me: You have no boundaries, do you? *leveling a hate look at him"
Him *laughing more* I guess not.
Me: *staring* I'm not amused.
Him: *makes up some convoluted story about being in the bathroom and just doing it on impulse*
Me: *turns away, stops talking to him until he leaves for work*
I feel so . . . violated is a strong word, but something along those lines. Having your garbage picked through is just . . . uncool.
And, he literally trashed the kitchen again. It took him a half hour, but he used 3 sautee pans, 3 bowls, countless utensils and some kind of spice on the wet counter, so now it is all cemented to the counter. And I will spend another hour in there cleaning it tonight in preparation for him to do it again tomorrow all over again. He's not even bothering to put his dishes in the sink any more. He has gotten to mid-life, and reverted back to the teen-ager he was never allowed to be.
In all the years he has taken care of me, he has never had to clean up after me, but it's all I do for him. I follow him around, picking up clothes, tissue, dishes, glasses. Now, I don't mind being a housewifey, but I'm not living with a toddler, I do expect him to clean up after himself, to a point. I don't mind doing his laundry, in spite of the completely bizarre instructions I must follow to do it "right". I don't mind doing the dishes, but I resent having dishes and trash spread out on all the counter tops that I try to keep sanitized. There's a level of respect I expect him to show me, as I do him for leaving the house every day to go work.
And then the digging through the trash thing. That just broke my camel's back. He can't stack the dishes, but he can dig used tissues out of my trash. Does anyone else see that I am living with a person who may be as crazy as I am? Just in slightly different ways?
I told him about the boots and he had the nerve to tell me I should have been firmer with him (as I recall, once I gave him the information, he stopped looking at me and responding to me), and gotten the boots this weekend. I could have strangled him, if I wasn't so sure he would over power me.
He said the oddest thing to me the other night. I commented that I really thought we would be able to grow old together and enjoy each other's company. He said, no irony, with a straight face, "I figure you'll kill e before that happens."
What the absolute fuck am I supposed to do with that? Needless to say, all jovial conversation stopped for the night and we spent the next few hours in uneasy silence. My husband thinks I'm going to kill him in the future? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? I wonder how he thinks I'm going to do it, as he is easily ten times stronger than me, and much bigger. And when am I to do this dastardly deed? In a sane time? During a psychotic episode? I've already pulled a knife on him twice, and he laughed at me both times and took the piss right out of me.
Tonight is my last night alone for the weekend. My last night up, my last night with the computer. He will take custody of it, play that game until the unit overheats and then lie to me about playing the game. I will turn the computer back on after it cools down, choose the "restore" option on Chrome and watch his game load. He's got a big problem with lying about trivial stuff, and he's not even being careful about it anymore. I keep catching him. And he doesn't even care that I catch him, because he sees no correlation between his lies an my behavior.
Primarily my asexuality. I was pushed over the edge into it completely by something he did, and he knows it, but I don't think he has owned it. More importantly, if we are going to be intimate, it has to be because I want to do it for him, because I never want to do it for me. I have no sexual desires, at all. But, given the right situation, I will please him like that. But I have to really be in like with him first. And every time this week that I have been close to giving in, one of these silly, little, fucking lies comes up and just disgusts me with him. And he doesn't get it. He will wait 20 minutes and then ask if I'm "feeling it" yet. NO. You're a fucking liar and you make me sick. The thought of your hands on my body makes me convulse with repugnance. I am repugged.