Several years ago I came to the realization that nothing I said to my spouse mattered. It wasn't just that I was wrong all the time, I was just ignored like a piece of furniture.
Like this. If you're driving the truck all the time and you know it leaks a little oil, check it once in a while. Don't come up to me and say "The truck is making a funny banging noise..." to which I would reply "How long has it been doing that?" and I'd get the response "About a month now..."
I'd check it out and find the oil pan almost dry... 'Check the oil once in a while... ' I'd say...
Do you think that could be done?
Fuck no.
Simple little things like that, checking the oil in the vehicle that you're driving... Maybe you can't put it in yourself, but CHECK it and I'll put it in if it needs it...
And it went on. Like what these pictures tell the tale of. In Arizona we'd get sandstorms once in a while. If you're ever caught it one, pull way off the road and stop, not continue barreling down the highway at 40 MPH (what the police report stated after the fact) where you could ram into the back of someone because visibility is zero...
I was not driving that day, by the way. But of course if I had and pulled off to the side and stopped, I'd have been wrong anyway.
My seventeen year old niece was a passenger at the time and I'm just so glad nothing happened to her, just a little shaken.
Well, like they say, it takes two to tango and it's my fault for ever letting it get that bad... So bad that our every waking moment together was spent sniping at each other to piss each other off. If I had said the sky was blue, it would have been purple. I swear at one point she'd take the cap off the toothpaste just to piss me off. Or just sit the new roll of toilet paper on the back of the hopper instead of putting on the roller. What was so fucking hard about that? I mean, it's right there anyway and it's not like you're going anywhere for a few minutes... Or back to the vehicles. Don't drive 40 miles from work to home, pass fifteen gas stations on the way, get home, wake me up (I was on night shift then) to tell me you're out of gas and have me get up and drive back into town to fill it. Don't tell me that I have a drinking problem when I have to throw out eight to ten rum bottles of yours every week and meet you at the bar every other night.
You get the idea.
Sorry for the vent this morning, I found these pictures when I was going through some things to throw out last week and they brought out some old scars, so I had to vent a little. And some people wondered why I did drink so much then. It was to calm me down so I didn't throttle her most nights. I haven't had a beer or any alcohol in over two months now, and even the last time I bought a six-pack it lasted me over a month.
I'm way over that point in my life and I'm much happier now than I ever was.
But to some people I'd still be wrong...
Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden
