I was sitting out in the sun, with a book and a cup of coffee. He sat down next to me, and started a fight. Like, it couldn't be clearer. "What's the worst thing I could talk about right now? What sore spot, that I can bring up out of the blue will do the most damage? AHA that's it." And I stupidly went along, thinking at first he could be mature enough to have a discussion. But I should know, any time he does this, it's simply because he thinks he's got more to say on it, no matter how I feel. And if he has more to say, then he's not happy about the resolution. He brought up the weed fairy painting, because he wants to put it up on his site, and he was testing the waters. He wasn't casually starting a discussion.
When he sat down, I said "today is my 'leave-me-alone' day. I don't want to talk. I want to relax". I don't know why I trusted him to even sit. My first mistake was staying out there, but I made such a nice spot for myself. I made such a comfortable little space, I had my feet up, a nice cup of coffee, a book that I have been meaning to read for months, and no plans for the day. Now, I'm sad, shaking, angry, and this day is entirely shot. I am not relaxing. I have two hours before Irv comes home, and the next two hours, I will be trying to calm the fuck down, and seething. Then I have to cook dinner, and take care of the house and Irv.
I had four fucking hours today. That's all I asked for.
Damage. Done.
So, I came back inside. Vented here. Tackled a bunch of house and work emails. Maybe I'll get lucky tomorrow. Maybe since I did all the shit right now that I put time aside for tomorrow, maybe tomorrow I'll get my four hours.
I doubt it.
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