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tried not to laugh So, the OA went to Vegas the week before, and I wasn't looking forward to hearing about her trip when we returned to work on Monday. As I walked in the door, she was standing right in front of me, and I asked her how Vegas was. "It was fun, but it was awful." She roomed with a friend, and she claimed that the friend was the most negative person...all she did was complain the entire time. She took over the room, telling the OA where she was going to sleep, that she couldn't be bothered in the middle of the night so not to go to the bathroom, and wouldn't let her watch anything on tv or read. But she kept going on and on about how much complaining she did, and how awful it was to put up with it. And it took everything in me to not laugh and say that i knew what she meant. I heard a repeat of everything at lunch time, and she literally spent our 45 minutes of lunch, complaining about her trip. I just keep reminding myself that she will soon be gone. And maybe sooner than we think...she came into work this morning all upset because the folks in charge of her disability insurance are cutting her benefits because she works too much. I managed to not remind her that she knew the requirements and chose to ignore them. *breathe* This weekend was a busy one. We woke up at 10am and went to Ikea to get my desk and a bookshelf. I'd already gone Friday night to see if there was anything there I wanted because we had a tight schedule on Friday, so I needed to make sure it was worth going. I narrowed my choices down to three desks, and then asked Artboy what he thought. I got the desk with the largest work surface, and adjustable legs, and I'm quite happy with it. I would have preferred the Birch finish, but the Beech was on sale--$100 off--and I couldn't justify paying $100 more to get the color I wanted. I could live with the Beech. We then looked at bookcases again, and I really didn't see what I was looking for. We narrowed the choice down to one, but I wanted to keep looking at other places, so we got the desk and left. It *just* fit in his vehicle. It was still too early for Tony to come, so we loaded up his car with some items to take to storage and dropped them off. Had a fight because I'd told Tony all he was helping us with was the mattress...Artboy wanted him to also come back to his old place to pick up the tubs of clay he had there, but I'd missed that piece of info. Tony's time was limited though..he had to be done by 4pm, and I didn't think we'd have time anyway. I apologized over and over, and told him we could both drive to his house, put the clay in our vehicles, and take them over. He wouldn't let it go though...he was still angry at me 45 minute later. Which made ME angry. I stopped and said, "Look, I'm sorry I made a mistake. I don't know what to do about it now. I've apologized, come up with an alternate solution, and I don't know what more I can do." And then I said something stupid--that I was going to start hating his days off because all we've done the last several weeks is fight. That really ticked him off. It was how I was feeling, but I probably shouldn't have said it. Angry words were exchanged, and I went into the bedroom to cool down. When I came back we were able to talk more rationally and make up before Tony arrived to help us. We loaded up some storage bins and the mattress, and took them down...and I started to feel better about the mess in the apartment. Like we were moving forward. I felt good on Thursday, but on Friday, he'd gone back to the house to pick up the rest of his things (and discovered that his super energy conscious roommate, and closed his room, put a towel under the door, closed the air vent.....and then opened the window, allowing 100+ degree air into the room. WTF?? Artboy is convinced he was attempting to melt his clay sculpture...I"m not sure, but it sure doesn't make sense.) and the house was a mess again. I felt like we'd gone backwards. All day long, I was trying so hard to keep us in good spirits. He woke up grumpy, and I was trying to be silly, trying to make him smile. He wasn't having any of it though. We stopped for gas, and he almost hit a pole, and got upset with me for not saying something to him about it..to warn him. And I was like, "Well, last week, I said something like that and you bit my head off, so I wasn't about to do it this time." He apologized, and was kind of laughing about it, but that was just the straw that broke the camels back for me. He'd been snapping at me all day, and I just started crying. Then he was all apologetic and sweet, and it was just exhausting. We got all the clay tubs in his car. They were super heavy, so I had a difficult time helping, and pulled a muscle in my shoulder and felt something pop in my lower back. But we got them in and took them to storage. Found some carts to help us move them to the unit, and all was good. We went to eat, then went to Staples and Office Max to look at bookshelves and decided to go back to Ikea to get the book shelf. By this point, my back is killing me, and my hip was starting to give out. I was in pain. And I discovered he planned on using the bookcase as well. Groovy. I don't mind sharing but good grief. I have a ton of books that are at my parents house...and I'd already told them I would take them home. He has the bookcase in our bedroom and another in the office full of his books, and now half of the new one (when he was only going to need "a couple shelves". I kept trying to tell him I needed more room, but we must not be communicating. We got the larger unit, brought it home, and I put the desk together, while he started putting the book case together. When I was done, I wanted to help, but he wouldn't let me, so I went to take a bath and calmed down. But then he was angry because he said I said something that hurt him when I left (and all I remember saying was that I was taking a bath and watching tv in the other room--he couldn't remember what it was) and then was angry that I didn't say anything to him when my bath was done. I told him I was upset because I wanted to help, and the only thing he wanted me to do was move these heavy boxes out of the room. Which I did, but with difficulty. I told him he knew how much I enjoyed doing that kind of stuff, that it was my book case too (we ended up paying half), and he hurt my feelings. This is all so ridiculous. I don't want to fight all the time. I keep telling myself it's just cause we're stressed. We're getting used to living with each other. But I can't help but worry. Where did this all come from? And I'm increasingly feeling like I am moving into his space. Because it's all about his stuff. I have no room for my pictures of family. No room for my things. My candles, my decorations. Because every space except for my dresser (which has my storage container on top of it atm, but he plans on taking some of that space too) and a corner of the bookcase, is covered with his stuff. And I keep telling him that I need more room. That I don't have a place to put my things that are special to me. And he just brushes it off, and it really hurts my feelings. I need to sit down and have a talk with him tonight about it, because every day I come home, I grow more and more resentful. This is supposed to be *our* place, but it doesn't feel like it. And I don't know if I"m just not being clear when I am trying to talk to him about this stuff, or what. Be we just aren't communicating on the same level. And it's weird, because we've rarely had this issue before. Now I'm exhausted. I hadn't planned on writing about all of this. *sigh* |