If I had my life to live over, I would perhaps have more actual troubles but I'd have fewer imaginary ones. ~Don Herold
Ever have one of those days that goes eternally wrong before you even get in the shower?
Welcome to my life.
7am I get up to take the dog for our usual bike ride.
Things actually run quite smoothly for the first 2 minutes or so.
Then we run into Hannah. Nothing disastrous happens, but I spend the rest of he bike ride feeling guilty that the dog loves us so much and I never let Bandit off to play with her.
So on the way back home, I do.
And of course I loose him.
I realize that this is the point where everybody rolls their eyes and says "Doesn't she ever learn?" and the answer to that is "No, I don't"
So it's 7:40 am and I've already screwed up for the day.
Haven't even brushed my teeth yet.
As I bike back home alone, I imagine what my stronger half is going to say when I tell him I've managed to loose the dog before he's even gotten out of bed for the day.
It turns into one of those imaginary conversations that take on a life of their own in you head.
Imaginary Me " I lost the dog"
Imaginary Him (With imaginary condescending look on his face) "Of course you did, you need to learn you can't trust him off leash"
Imaginary Me (Getting a little imaginarily condescending myself) "Oh yea, well maybe I wouldn't be the only one who ever lost him if it wasn't always my responsibility to take him in the mornings!"
I continue with the imaginary argument as I drive around the abandon railway tracks looking for the dog. Expanding the situation to include the damage to my car, wasted gas, and even the morning fog as things that can be attributed to his penchant for sleeping in.
A little voice of reason does pipe up about this time,"But hey, you like getting up early, that's why you do it"
I shove that voice of reason as far back down into the depths of my mind as I can, so I can continue irrationally seething as I go home dog-less.
As I enter the house I realize he's not even out of bed yet.
My blood boils.
I have managed to get up, bike the dog, loose the dog, waste 20 minutes looking for the mutt that I am now considering giving away or just taking out back and shooting and he ISN'T EVEN OUT OF BED YET??!!!!
I stomp downstairs to do my ten minutes of Jiggle Machine.
Which just inflames the anger as I think about how I COULD have time to do hour and a half work-outs like he does, if I didn't have to spend my entire LIFE trying to tire out the dog.
Maybe there should be a study done, if your temper is already through the roof, the effects of getting the crap shaken out of you for ten minutes not only increases circulation, and muscle mass, but also irrational thoughts.
A pip-squeak voice in the back of my mind manages to mention that I really barely ever make it through my ten minutes without getting bored, why the hell would I ever WANT to lift weights for an hour and a half?
I manage to drown it out with thoughts of "He damn well better not get in that shower before I get back up stairs"
"If he thinks he can just laze around all morning and then get in the shower just at the exact moment I NEED to get in the shower I'll kill him!! I swear I will."
As I was formulating a plan to go into the OTHER shower and turn on all the cold water so he boiled to death for taking a shower just when I needed to, a thought occurred to me.
He's not up yet because he doesn't have to work until 5pm.
Annoying voice of reason mentions not only the fact that he told me this last night, but also how nicely it works out that I get the bathroom all to myself all morning.
I silence it with a good irrational "Well why the hell didn't he tell me that this morning instead of letting me get up and bike the dog!!"
If he just had of reminded me of that at 7am I wouldn't have gotten up at all, therefor I wouldn't have lost the dog and I wouldn't be in such a bad mood and we wouldn't be on our fifth imaginary argument already!!
Look how he's managed to screw up so badly without even lifting his head off the pillow.
Ten minutes later and my brains are just about shaken out of my skull, my muscles have become jelly, yet my bad mood hasn't softened a bit.
As I stomp past him into the unoccupied bathroom, he wakes and says "Good Morning"
That's all I could manage. I realized at this point that I was being absolutely insane, but I still wasn't ready to come back to the realm of normal emotions.
So instead I shut the door to let the bad mood simmer down a little.
When I am finally ready for work, (and ready to face the consequences of my unleashing actions) I come out.
He's still in bed. (To his defense, it really only takes me about 15 minutes to get ready for work).
I'm no longer mad at him for this. I sit on the edge of the bed and confess my sins.
"I lost the dog"
I brace for the argument that comes next, fully prepared to take nearly all the responsibility for being a bad dog owner.
"Well, he'll come back"
That was it.
That was the only response he had for me.
I managed to have an entire nervous breakdown before 8:30am and SH doesn't even bat an eye.
That's why he is my stronger half, and usually also my saner half.
4 years ago