zombie brain wins again
January 27, 2006, 6:53 P.M.
Oomph.
Another power struggle between the part of my brain that had shit to do today, and the part that kept going "me...want..sleeeeeep...sleeeeep...couch...NOW!"
Zombie brain won. Again. It was a super-glorious day, sunny, warm, and awe-inspiringly un-Januarylike. And I crashed on the sofa for three hours, until it was dark and cold, and the dog got worried and started fussing.
God, I hope this stuff fixes me.
I can't win with Spouse over the Las Vegas trip. First he bitches that I must not even want to go, because I haven't shown the slightest interest in this trip.
(I may just have tipped my hand when I announced that he should make whatever fucking plans he wanted and stop bugging me because I didn't have the slightest interest in this trip.)
So today I made the suggestion, that maybe, since we didn't get the chance last year, we could go out to Henderson and eat at Lucille's. Cripes! Who knew it would be a hot button? He proceeded to go off on a rant about "if I want barbecue, he'll take me to Bahama Breeze--we didn't need to go out to Henderson for barbecue--blaah blaah Ginger blaah blaah."
Sigh.
Here we go again with the control. His subtle way of pretending he's giving me exactly what I want, but always with enough of a twist that it's all really on his terms, and he's in control. Have I mentioned that I really, really hate that game?
I ended up snapping at him that "Fine, I'll just go back to being totally fucking uninterested in your vacation." I really hate a game I know can't be won. He's only happy if he's working that control, I'm never more desperately unhappy than when he does. And, because he's insidious that way, his alternatives to my suggeastions are always stuff I would like--just without the choice. Which is what I really want. Fuck.
Personally, my vacation preferences for this year were A)Green Bay Minicon, and B)Vermont, Upstate NY, and Montreal. I thought that maybe, just once, we could go somewhere other than Las Vegas, where we've been going regularly for the last decade.
No wonder I'm always so fucking depressed. I've said it before, I'll say it again--I only have two settings. Pissed or Depressed. And pissed will wear you out fast. (Lydia, if you read this--American, "angry" pissed, not thundering chundering drunk.)
It is so wrong of me to sit and type this and once again avoid seeing my very best friend in the world because people are hard and the sofa is easy. I think I will make the big move, and go over the four blocks to her house, and sit on her couch for a while. Her last email intimated that she had much to tell me of recent events. And when I can't pull my shit together for me or anyone else--I always manage to pull it together for her.She's good for me that way. More than once in my life, the one single thing that kept me from throwing in the towel was the knowing I couldn't hurt her like that certainly would.
Reading: �The Restless Sleep--Inside New York City's Cold Case Squad�, by Stacy Horn.
Listening: XM "Fred". Prefab Sprout, The Police, Smithereens
Beading: No.
One Year Ago, I was pondering a turn of events.
At Random: click here
|