I am feeling entirely uninspired.
The flash of creativity that made the zine take shape has left me. (Nomes, Lindsie, check your mail soon.) Well, I suppose that’s not entirely true, I did get started (again) on the photo album, but that’s been something in the works for a while… and I have new pens, which always helps. (I have a problem with new pens and notebooks, I freely admit this, and must limit my spending in this arena if I’m ever going to save any money.)
But today, is laundry day – and I’m also doing the dishes that have accumulated over the past two weeks. Yesterday I scrubbed the bathroom from top to bottom (gawd it fucking sparkles) and tidied a bit in the living room but then got overwhelmed with the pigsty that is our house. I don’t quite know how it got this awful. Probably because of some resentment on my part when J wasn’t going to work OR physio for that month or so. I mean, ok, being out of work for 5 months because you’re injured is one thing, but then deciding that physio isn’t working and that you’re not going to go anymore… (and thus screwing yourself out of any kind of compensation or leads for retraining) is just a tad bit infuriating. Especially when I’m working 5 or 6 8-9 hour days every week. So of course I’d feel a little put out that I’d have to spend my hard-earned days off doing chores, some of which could have been done by the person who had been home all day doing nothing. So I’d leave things. I mean, two of us live here after all. Is this totally unjustified? Am I being unfair? Just to the apartment I suppose, and I’m paying for it now. (And didn’t I just say “if you want something done, do it yourself”? Fuck, way to talk myself in circles.)
Now J’s working a job that he obviously hates, and he comes home cranky and sore every day. His back hurts where he hurt it at the previous job and his ankles are all bruised and swollen from being on his feet all day (most probably on concrete) and he just says something like “it has to be done” whenever I express my concern over these facts. Well, yeah, but there’s a limit. If it fucking hurts you and you hate it, use your spare time to find something else goddammit. (Here I go being unfair again, perhaps. I mean, it always takes me a while to get started on things, but when I do, I get it done. Start to finish all at once. And I’d probably start sooner if I were in pain 24-7. Fatalism has never been my strong point.)
He wants to go back to school, but there are hangups somewhere which he finds infuriating – I would too! – but the upside is that he’s got further with it this time than he has every other time he’s had this plan. I just hope he gets going on it this time. I’d like to see him hit a goal.
I had hoped that the new job would affect the amount of time we spend bickering, but we seem to still be at it. Last week was mostly me, I admit, but that I blame on the knot of pms-induced fury curling in my gut over all the things I’d like to say but can’t because they’d be misinterpreted. (Ok fine, it’s always there, but pms time makes it harder to reign it in.) But this week, since this is something I actually spat at him on Friday, we seem to spend every other sentence talking at cross-purposes. I seem to misinterpret everything he says as well. Somehow our frames of reference have slipped sideways and neither of us are on the same page. I’d like to know how to get back on the same one. (For instance, supposedly there is no longer an ultimatum in place. Great. When did that happen and way to make me feel like crap.)
Today’s project: Laundry
eating: green grapes
listening to: Imogen Heap – Speeding Cars
reading: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – J.K. Rowling