I wasn’t. Well, for the most part.
My husband had his best friend over. They were playing music, getting plastered and talking loudly. All night. Their idea of “keeping it down” while someone is trying to sleep is just pathetic. My husband cannot control the volume of his voice when he’s drunk. Which gets increasingly embarrassing as he spews less and less intelligent shit even louder, though he feels hes getting more and more intelligent the drunker he gets. So this was happening all night.
I wake up in the morning somewhat groggy since I had rather interrupted sleep. I hear music and loud laughing. They are STILL up. At 7:00 in the morning. I don’t get to do my yoga. I have to walk downstairs to a ton of noise. Lights on. Music. Obnoxious drunk laughter. There are about 20 empty beer cans sitting on my kitchen countertop. No room to make breakfast. Great. This day just went from bad to fucking stupid.
I put on some coffee and take my computer into my work room. I don’t get to enjoy the sunrise as the window in here faces west. Awesome. I chat with some friends and answer some potential customer’s questions. I wander back out. Still a pile of cans. I pour some coffee, reheat that last sausage egg muffin thing I made the other day and make myself a bowl of cereal. Not the way I normally like to start my day.
My husband is so drunk he wants to “talk” about hats and Vegas and our divorce. He’s rambling on an on about the stuff we’re splitting. He all of a sudden throws a curveball that he wants the couch. What? My mom gave us this couch. Therefore it is mine. He argues that he paid to fix up the station wagon and so he should get the couch. Whatever. I’m not arguing about this while he is drunk in front of his friend. So I tell him its fine, I’ll go find another couch for cheap. It really isn’t a big deal, its a huge massive sectional couch anyway, it probably won’t fit into a small appartment. He rambles that he wants me to have the couch and not to worry about it and its ok I can have it and etc etc etc…I can’t be part of this anymore. It’s so annoying. No wonder I’m leaving him. I keep telling him it’s fine, I’ll find a new couch. I have to get back to work. I just walk out of the room eventually.
I go back to my workroom and finish up a couple loose ends on some projects. All done! I decide to walk my orders to the post office since it’s such a damn gorgeous day outside. I get my packages ready and walk out into the living room. My husband is passed out cold on the couch. His friend is just sitting there watching TV. I asked him what happened. He said he stepped outside for a while because my husband was being so annoying that even he couldn’t take it anymore. When he came back inside my husband had passed out. He was breathing, but wouldn’t respond to having his face smacked.
I left and went on my walk. On the way home a couple of my cousins spotted me and picked me up. We hung out (outside, by this time my husband’s friend had passed out too) for about an hour. My one cousin is also getting divorced. She has a kid with him. I thank whatever god will listen that we don’t have kids to worry about. We bond for a while, they’re awesome kids. I love them very much.
After they leave, I decide it’s too late for lunch. I would like to take myself out to dinner. I pick an Indian place. I want to bring something to read. I normally have a book in the car for that purpose, so I don’t think twice when I leave without a book in hand. I then remember halfway there that I have recently switched cars and don’t have my “car book” in this one. Dammit. I stop at my retail job. There’s books there. I let my coworkers know whats going on as I haven’t worked there in another week and a half so none of them know I’m getting divorced. I hang out there for about an hour. I decide on The Hunger Games as my easy read of choice. I hear it’s excellent, so I am excited to read it.
I head to the Indian place. I order a small appetizer of potatoes, veggies and raisins with cilantro, coriander and vinegar. I have some plain naan bread. For my entree I get a lamb, cashew and raisin dish in a spicy yogurt garlic sauce on basmatti rice. It was all delicious. There’s always something about Indian food in a restaurant…some secret ingredient that I don’t have that always makes it amazing. I loved guessing the spices in it. The book helps me not gorge on my food. I eat slowly, so I feel full when I’m done. I don’t feel the need to order more. I do decide that I want to treat myself to a little ice cream too while I’m out.
On the way home I stop at Baskin Robbins and have just a sugar cone with one small scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough and one small scoop of some raspberry chocolate swirl stuff. I thought I wanted a massive waffle cone with huge scoops of ice cream and syrup and sprinkles and the works…but I don’t. I’m relatively full since I read a book while I ate. Very smart. VERY smart. I know I couldn’t possibly eat all of that. So I go for the sugar cone. $2. Perfect.
I still feel great about myself.
I go home and my husband eventually did move off of the couch into the bedroom. Good for him. He’s not dead. Yay. I watch some Daily Show and go to bed with my book.
I am happy.
Exercise: 4 mile walk