Thursday, March 26, 2009

Welcome Home

Okay, I'm in kind of a foul mood. Bear with me.

In many ways, Pythagorus is a really great guy. He is. Unfortunately, however, the best parts of him are often intentions. Grrrr.

Now, I realize that having a wife in the hospital is unquestionably stressful. We have the added stress of a daycare fiasco, so he had Belle with him while he worked from home Monday and Tuesday. Four days straight of "all Belle all the time" is also pretty stressful--kind of borders on insanity-inducing. I get that. I do. And his job is extremely stressful. I'm the first person to admit that, I really and truly am.

However, I've spent my "day home recuperating" folding laundry that I did before I went into the hospital and doing more. I cleaned the microwave (which seemed to be growing something ... please don't go there) and counters in the kitchen because I didn't want my children to contract something. All of this (and I can just now see the floor of the laundry room) has taken me less than five hours. I mean, in spite of all the stress (and again, I get that there's been a lot lately), wouldn't you think that he could find five hours between Saturday morning and Wednesday night to do some of this really basic stuff?

Pythagorus is currently on my crap list not because of this, though, but because:
1. He is not answering his phone and/or e-mail. This drives me crazy!!!! I have been trying to get in touch with him for over two hours to figure out when we can go to the hospital to pick up the other car. I have Belle home with me today, and she was not enthused about the lunch options (they were minimal) ... since he almost always comes home for lunch, I thought he might be willing to stop and get something at the store (or even McDonald's or something) for her. Instead, though, I can't get him to acknowledge my existence. I realize that he's at work, but how many seconds does it take to hit reply, type "I'm really busy", and press "send"?
2. I went to take a shower with Belle, and there was no shampoo. Before I left to hit the ER Saturday morning, I took a shower and used essentially the last of the shampoo. What the hell has he been using to wash his hair all week? And even worse, I went dripping down the hall to Addie's bathroom and her shampoo was on "E" too. So my husband is dirty, my children are dirty, and Belle and I spent a long time in the shower mixing water with empty shampoo bottle residue (and I kept dropping them and yelling, "Son of a bitch!" which made Belle laugh hysterically and me feel like a horrible mother) to get moderately clean hair. We also have no trash bags. Or all-purpose cleaner. Or food.

Okay, I hate nagging wives. I try very hard not to be one, although Pythagorus might disagree with that. There are enough real things to get upset about without bitching about shampoo or not responding to e-mails. Still, where does that line of minor irritations unspoken turn into the dreaded term "marriage problems"?

Deep breath. Out of my system. Vita e bella. Teeth clenched. Smile forced.