3/17/06

Another mornin’, another fight,
We should end this, turn out the light,
Another reason, another season,
Without makin’ whoopee
 
Your hurtful comments, are so snotty,
Maybe I should go and fuck that 22 yr. old hottie,
She’s got baskin’, cause she’s askin’
To make whoopee!
 
You’re my wife, and I’m your hubby,
And we’re a little more older and a little more chubby,
And we’re fightin’ and tokes I’m lightin’
And we aint makin’ whoopee
 
We’re both so different, and somewhat selfish,
You dream of purses, and I of shellfish,
In a cream sauce, that would be boss (oops, I digress)
And there is no whoopee

 
I was yelled at this morning when J couldn’t find her jeans. I did all the laundry yesterday, so naturally it was my fault. I know the jeans are not the underlying cause of the tirade, but it still pissed me off. She has OCD and I am too nonchalant about certain things. We can’t seem to reach equilibrium between the two. She also informed me she was biding her time until she could leave. I responded that I didn’t think we should wait any longer and that things have been unraveling long enough. She then listed my faults, in order and catalogued according to the Dewey Decimal System, to which I responded that I love her, but don’t like her. She then proceeded to yell hateful things, which after six years of marriage have lost their desired stinging effect. After that things calmed down and we both said what was on our minds in a reasonable adult fashion. She then went to work and I started writing this entry. I imagine biding her time means she’s going to leave me during summer vacation, or she’s waiting to see if I get the San Antonio job. In that case, I suppose I’ll be moving alone. We’re having a party tonight, which is not being cancelled. We don’t fight in public and will still have a good time. 
 
I really am a shitty husband…..at least to her.   Of course she hasn’t taken care of me either, at least not emotionally. 
 
Tuesday I went to the island (that’s what we call Port Aransas, a major tourist destination) to a friend’s condo and toked for the first time since 1990. I will designate this friend “F.” She is a hippy born 20 years too late. We smoked, drank good wine and talked about things. I really enjoy her company, but alas, she and her boyfriend are moving this summer. They both are fellow foodies, and I will miss them greatly. 
 
I’m such an idiot. I wish I had the balls to FINALLY end this joke of a marriage. 
 
But I don’t want to be a statistic – the one that states 50% of marriages end in divorce.
 
However, life is too short to be unhappy.
 
Life is also too short to drink bad wine.
 
Life is too short to spend all day typing an entry.