My husband's most recent obsession is with a weight bench. I'm pleased with him obsessing and compulsing over things that aren't heroin, and working out is certainly a good alternative. We had a falling out this morning, however, about his desperate, life-or-death need for weights.
He's found a weight bench on the side of the road, and he dragged it home. Next, he finagled his sister into purchasing a bar to accompany his bench. The only thing he needs to complete his set is the actual weight, so he's done a pretty good job of scavenging it together.
He called me today and told me that he was going to get his aunt to take him to buy weights for the bar today, but he needed me to tell his aunt that it's ok. He thought he'd found a remarkable shortcut to avoiding paying bills. His aunt deposits the money that she owes him directly into my account because she doesn't like handing him cash, and I've told him that I won't take any money out of my account for "toys" for him until he has deposited enough money to pay his bills for the week. His loophole was to ask his aunt to take him directly to the store and purchase the item for him, and he seemed dreadfully confused at first why I would say that his idea wasn't good. Then, he became angry when I refused to tell his aunt that it was ok with me for her to spend money that he should be giving me to pay bills on weights. And then he yelled a lot.
I've been at work all day, so I didn't think much about it. Now, I'm between my day job and my night job, and I'm furious. I thought it might do me some good to write about it, to kind of quell the rising obsession. I don't want to go home to an unpleasant husband, so I'm starting to dread the time of night when I head that way.
I hate that feeling.