Thursday, July 23, 2009

torturing hans

Army of Me by Bjork. That's the song my ever-patient husband left for me to discover on Amarok this morning.

"If you complain once more, meet an army of me".

I woke him around seven, baby on hip with the words "I still don't like you. Fuck you for not fucking me and fuck you for being me, instead of you. Fuck you".

How's that for a morning greeting? Graceless, with a side of ZERO filter, yet effective. He did breakfast with kids while I dozed. He did laundry. Loads of it. Wash, dry, fold, stack. Emptied the dishwasher. Fed the dogs. Then he cleared out, with kids. To the pool. On the bike. Whoooooosh.

And left me with her lyrics, "if you complain once more, meet an army of me". Fair enough.

Space equals filter repair. Writing equals filter repair. Sprained foot, bruised and swollen, precludes other aspects of filter repair. Note to self: always choose exercise when the body permits, because sweat equals filter repair.

My task here?

1/Figure out my shit, so I can ask for what I need. I know that I need time alone, to recharge and process. Can't get around it. So why not foresee my need for time alone and ask preemptively instead of being an asshole and driving everyone far, far out of my range. My projectiles sting.

2/apologize, and keep my mouth shut (no complaints only compliments) till the filter is back in place.

Good thing I like a challenge.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Creative Commons License
Foster Princess Blog by Leigh Ecke is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.