This is not a real photo of our kitchen, but it looks strikingly like our kitchen.
Nothing can send me into a rage quite like the pile of dishes that's in our kitchen. Nothing except a burned spoon, like the one I found in the yard today. There's nothing quite like the juxtaposition of burned spoon, dog piss on the carpet, dirty dishes, and him making me late for my Nar-Anon meeting by taking a long and luxurious shower to make me so fucking furious I could spit acid.
The burned spoon was underneath a pile of wood. I have mixed feelings about this spoon. There was the other spoon earlier this week. It seems like there's been a lot of spoons popping up lately. I hate burned spoons. Burned spoons make me want to bite people.
This latest spoon wouldn't have been upsetting if there hadn't been another spoon so recently. But there was a spoon. There appears to be a crop of spoons. Spoons are in season.
I don't want to write about spoons. I want to write about my nerd-shame about how upset I was about being late to my meeting. This is my blog, so I will choose to ignore the spoons. Fuck spoons.
So I get home from work, and he's in the shower. I'd left work in time to be able to pick him up, drive him to his new job so that he could help the owner with painting, and get to my meeting. I was nerdily excited to lead the meeting, and I'd even come up with my nerd-happy topic, and I was pleased with myself, pleased with the opportunity to boss the meeting around and play teacher, excited to see my husband and excited for him to hang out with his new boss, and eager to spend the evening together after our separate healthy activities. But he was in the shower, and he stayed in the shower. I kept saying, "Hey, we really need to go. I'm supposed to lead this meeting. I can't be late."
And he knew that I was going to lead the meeting. He said something about it this morning. He asked me if I'd thought of a topic. And he'd moved my diamond ring, the engagement ring from my first marriage. He had been looking at it, he said, and he put in on a wobbly table by the door, and the dogs had knocked it off the table and it had gotten pushed under the couch. For the few moments before he found it, I was sure he'd pawned it. Absolutely positive.
And the goddamned dishes weren't done, which he'd said on Sunday he'd do, and they were stacked SO HIGH.
And so we left to go drop him off. I cried. Somehow, the juxtaposition of dishes, fear of him pawning, finding the spoon, him making me late...it was all in about 20 minutes, and it wrecked my day. I'd been so positive earlier, so happy with him and happy with myself. It's like some scab got ripped off. I think it also involves lots of unresolved feelings about my ex husband. I am keeping that ring around for a reason, as if I might decide to go be married to the other guy again. It's another trapdoor fantasy of mine. I can be a lesbian! I can go back to the ex! Things will be normal then!
I felt this profound shame at my disappointment at not being on time to be able to lead the meeting. It was nerd shame. I was excited in a nerdy way. It was the shame I felt when I cried in second grade because someone broke my favorite pencil in a pencil fight (remember pencil fights?)...I was upset because someone broke the pencil I liked for writing, and I was embarassed by having a pencil that I liked for writing. Nerd shame hurts because it's so true to the core of who I am...I'm a big ol' geek on the inside.
I am feeling rambly and confused. Perhaps I should stop this, now.