Semi-violent Femme
2004-09-23, 5:52 p.m.

Thursday�s fortune:

You are demonstrative with those you love.

And how.

I was demonstrative in front of the whole freaking neighborhood on Saturday after Hubby nudged me over the edge.

He and I had just had two days� worth of productive dialogue about things such as using our time wisely, completing necessary projects, and just plain living visibly like decent folk. Lately (like most of the PAST FREAKING YEAR) he has been quick to drop anything that remotely hinted of work, in favor of anything else that sounded like fun (computer games, watching tv test patterns, I mean ANYTHING). As a result, the exterior of our house looks like crap, there are dozens of minor projects and repairs that have gone unfinished or simply untouched, period, and it was becoming more than inconvenient.

Take our tv, for example. It�s a great set, going on 20 years old, but now has an annoying habit of turning to black and white every 45 seconds or so. You have to turn it off and on again to restore the color. We have another tv, nearly new, to swap out with this old one, so we can have the old one repaired. I�ve been asking Hubby for about 2 months to please switch the tv�s, but the new one still squats in this front room where I type, and we have to do the click-click-click thang constantly to watch one freaking show.

We have a sizeable album collection, yet we cannot listen to them. After 7 or 8 months, he has yet to connect the stereo components to the computer. (We have surround sound on this, and Hubby likes to burn CD�s of the albums. Or, he used to.) Duran Duran languishes while I fret. Somewhere within these past months he�s had 20 minutes to spare to connect some wires. He just can�t be bothered to do it. I can do a lot of things, but connecting electronic ganglia such as this eludes me. I�m afraid it will end in a mushroom cloud of disintegrating gadgetry.

The flower beds are beyond atrocious. I have pulled weeds as much as I can, but the beds are approaching the point of no return. It�s time for some serious weedkiller and mulch and the brute manly strength to apply it. I don�t want to be surrounded by botanical gardens; I just want it neat and clean. Bare and clean is better than stubby and weedy, any day.

So, a couple of weeks ago we bought the paint to grace the living room and kitchen with a color other than cheap builder�s primer, and after a year and a half of living in chalk I was eager to get on with it. We had planned to start Saturday. Then Hubby got an invite to go do something FUN and the whining commenced. When he called to inform me of his change of plans, I was over it. I took the new paint, the roller and pan, the brushes, everything, and put them in the bulk trash pile by the roadside. Meanwhile, he had the sense to pick up my seriously pissed off vibes through the telephone and headed straight home. When he pulled in the driveway, I had half the partially-restored Hoosier cabinet in the trash pile as well, and was still trotting back and forth with bits and bobs of unfinished projects. His Pissed-Off-Wife-O-Meter was registering off the scale, as evidenced by how he kept his mouth shut while he dutifully shuttled everything back to its rightful places and helped me ready the living room to paint. I was so mad I cried. I hate crying. I unloaded on him, and he took it well. Probably because there were no neighbors outside at the time. I am NOT generally one for public spectacle, so this atypical scope and sequence of my ire sent my point straight home. (Later, I was nice enough to do the hard parts of the painting so he could do the FUN roller work. I was mad as hell, but not unforgiving.)

I wouldn�t have been so angry, if we had not JUST had the conversation about taking care of our responsibilities around the house. You can�t spend your entire life on �fun� and let everything around you go to pot. He makes the occasional observation about co-workers, who have the same salaries but drive the hot-snot cars and live in big fancy houses and max out credit cards on far-off vacations. We live very modestly in a tiny house with used-but-nice vehicles, no credit cards, and no vacations. Yet, if someone from his work were to come over, they would think we live on mere pittance due to the pathetic condition of so many things. Heck, they couldn�t watch a movie with us without the dang tv turning dark before the opening credits are done. I don�t want to keep up with the almighty Joneses, but neither do I want to look as though I�m a louse. You don�t have to be wealthy in the least to just take care of what you�ve got.

Hubby realized the error of his ways and has been quite helpful since. The living room and kitchen look incredible with the new walls of Belle Grove Buff. The paint implements have been put away neatly in the shed. This weekend, Hubby will reinstall all the electronics in the entertainment center, including the working television. We will balance responsibilities with relaxation, knowing there is a time and a place for everything, including fun.

Duran Duran is waiting.

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