work table is set up; dishwasher delivered today. gave a quote for a very large catering job but could tell the client was grumpy so i made the quote extra high – so that if i get it, it’ll be worth it, but more likely she’ll go elsewhere. ain’t got time for difficult/grumpy/ungrateful clients nitpicking about the price of a loaf of bread (literally).
now that husband is working from home again (new, larger apartment) he’s up my nose and on my nerves. i’ve restated kindly that he must go out 2 nights a week minimum. where he says? i don’t give a shit, i say. then he says that he’s going out tomorrow. where, I say. don’t know yet, he says.
from my inbox:
RPD (day 58): “I had an interesting perspective yesterday at a kids birthday party where everyone was drinking. The more people drank, even though they acted and seemed more buoyant, the more ridiculous the whole thing seemed. It wasn’t a few cocktails either, I’m talking about people getting hammered at a nine year old’s birthday. I gathered the family around nine thirty (of course the kids were having fun, almost completely unsupervised) and told them we were going and we left to drunken protests. I’ll say this, it feels good when the ball is in your court and you leave Wolfie at the curb trying to get you to stick around. Unfortunately he had plenty of other pals to carouse with.”
E: “My husband is pissy–my son is pissy–I am pissy. This is prime trigger time. Those thoughts of going out to get a bottle of escape are hitting me hard. And it is only 10 a.m. Not only for the feeling of escape, but also I realize for an “I will show them” attitude. If they are going to be pissy and rain on my parade then I will go out and manage it the only way I know how. That will teach them. I know this attitude is sick sick sick. But it is what is going through my head. I realize I am not responsible for them and they are not responsible for me. So I have disappeared into my bedroom and will try to have some alone time so as not to make things worse.”
me: it’s kind of a stubborn attitude that we get from having difficult parents I think 🙂 we have a sort of ‘fuck you’ attitude to authority, even when we’re the ones (in adulthood) who are creating the authority. it’s like we want to say ‘fuck you’ even to ourselves… the thing is, if you give the stubborn 3 year old the donut she’s screaming for when you’re in the grocery store, then god help you every time you go to the grocery store … wolfie will make you feel agitated so that drinking seems like a good idea … two things: one is this post, and the other is the archived podcast called #35 Everything Else is Wolfie. love and hugs to you
E: “Oh boy–do you ever get me. Thanks, Belle.”