guest post by debbie downer, my alter ego

I have definitely moved to the wrong climate; at the hairdressers’ last night, my stylist basically told me there’s no hope of having less-than-enormous hair that isn’t coated in frizz in Auckland.  I am sentenced to a lifetime of bad hair living here.  It’s JUST NOT FAIR.  (First world problems blah blah stick it in your cakehole I want good hair and I want to moan and that’s all there is to it).  So I went home, f’d up dinner (vile carbonara that was eggy disgusting) and fought with my husband.  

 

ON THE WAY HOME LAST NIGHT.   SHITTY WEATHER, TOO

OK, so I had a moody bad day yesterday and it was not the hair that really set me off.  We’ve had bad news about a family friend that made me horribly sad and I’d had a mentally taxing day at work (not horrendously busy or anything, just working on a piece that required serious thought, research and composition).  So it’s a bit WOE WOE WOE here at the moment.  Usually I can write my way out of a slump, sniggering at my own misfortunes (lack thereof, really) but today when I woke up (thanks early-rising-to-pee-and-flush-neighbour!) P and I still weren’t really speaking.  Which is not good.    

When I say weren’t really speaking, I mean we were being ridiculously passive aggressive.  First out of bed, I made the standard morning cup of tea and practically thumped it down on his bedside table (classic martyr behaviour).  He thanked me as curtly as it is possible to thank a person.  I was leaving early, so the bathroom routine was out of whack and we ended up in there at the same time.  I had blow dried the mirror to get rid of steam on my side only; he smeared his towel all over his side (I hope to the baby jeebus that he didn’t do that on purpose; I HATE IT because it leaves smeary marks all over the mirror, ffs, and you KNOW who the mirror cleaner in this house is).  I excuse me’d my way past him to get into the makeup drawer and thanked him for moving in a way that put his earlier thank you to shame (so sharp he may as well have shaved with it).  I said bye as I walked in his general direction hoping for a hug, but he was walking the other way, so I turned and walked out.  I caught the edge of his turn back to give me a LOOK.  You know the kind, by turns sad/mad/disappointed in your behaviour.  BUT mother of god I was not buying into that bullshit and having an all-out barney before I started my day.  Just a war of demeanour and actions. 

I was unnecessarily sharp last night when he exhaled like my request was the end of the world.  He was grumpy because of work and other things.  We were generally being dicks BUT THIS IS SHIT and we are just not settling into our new life here, it feels like.  Also, I didn’t feel like apologising which is a fucking stupid thing to feel like but there we have it.  I love my husband and I hate fighting with him and, generally, we very rarely fight.  If you’re reading this and you know P and I, (a) don’t worry.  The wheels aren’t coming off, I’m just pissed, (b) say any of this to P and I’ll kill you, and (c) write this off on the basis of my hormones and I’ll kill you DEAD.  Just an adjustment phase, I guess.

Gah, I’m blowing this out of proportion.  You can’t accuse me of presenting a rosy picture of the awesomeness of my life.  Like I said, I’d normally find a way to blow this off as a funny (aren’t we stupid!?!) but I can’t get in the zone.    Vented, now I can go be a reasonable person and make it up.

 

When do I get grown up enough to start behaving like an adult? 

UPDATE: Apologised...via email....with a lolcat - does that even count as an apology??? Lucky my, ahem, magnanimous gesture was accepted as the olive branch.  So there's your moral.  If you can't say it, let a badly captioned kitteh say it for you. Um.  Well.  Yes.  And that's all I have to say about that.