Random Things, Edition One

Well, we went and bought Steve his beater. It's actually pretty nice if you take into account that it was $1100. And, he actually listed his dead truck for sale. A little tricky because we don't have the title, but it's really only good for parts so we don't need it. We lost it in the move and I refuse to pay the state to get the title on a truck that hasn't moved in three years, except on a flatbed. However, he's managed to drop the price everytime someone calls. Which totally pisses me off.

Before we left to get his 'new' car, he asked if he could get a new sight for his bow. It's a super duper 3D sight and they run about $100. Keeping in mind that he got a car for work, so that doesn't really count I ordered his sight. There's $134 I'll never see again. But, there's still plenty of money left for me to get the camera that I want. To be honest, our marriage doesn't work on the concept of he got this, now what do I get? I truly don't really ever want anything. As long as I get to stay home with the girls, I'm cool. Mostly. But I really want a new camera.

And then we get to the dealership (I'm using that term very loosely, trust me) and realize that I didn't think about pesky little things like taxes and plate fees. So. I'm not getting my camera. At least until he sells the truck. At which point I'll talk myself right out of it again. Which is okay. Today. Talk to me tomorrow and see how I feel, mkay?

***

As far as the 'boys' doing their own laundry, etc.? That lasted until I remembered that Luke broke my brand new Maytag heavy duty, super capacity washing machine three days after I got it - while we were on our honeymoon! - and decided that was a bad idea. So, that's a no-go until I get Steve to get his balls out of his purse and make them go to the laundro-mat.

However, the other day we had spaghetti for supper. Usually, I make two pounds. I only made one. There was salad and breadsticks also. They were both bitching that there wasn't enough. I looked Luke in the eye and told him "That's how much I made. You just ate a quarter of a pound of spaghetti. Don't you think that's enough? Seriously? If you're still hungry, go to Wendy's. There is nothing else being cooked in this house tonight."

Then last night, we had eight people for supper. Nine, if you count Sara. I made chili and I used 2.85 pounds of hamburger. There was enough for one bowl per person. Also, I made two eight by eight pans of cornbread. My mother brought a cake for dessert. I cut the cake into ten slices. That wasn't enough. Luke and Matt both had the decency to wait until John and Annette left before they started bitching about being hungry. They had just eaten supper and dessert thrity minutes earlier.

When Steve or I pack lunches there's a sandwich, and baggie of chips, a baggie of cookies and a piece of fruit. That's it. We now hide the potato chips and the cookies. Not to be vindictive, but to show them how much they really do eat. It's ridiculous.

Steve also told Luke that with this new job, where Luke will be making more money than Steve, that his 'rent' is going up from $50 a pay to $100 and that he will be taking over his entire portion of the car insurance. As it stands right now, we pay half of it because Steve was driving Luke's truck every day to work. We have now both mentioned the changes to him individually. Yesterday, we reminded him that more of his paycheck on Friday is coming to us for the insurance. "What? You never told me that," in his high-pitched twelve year old girl whine. "Luke, we've both told you. And we've both told you that the cost of living is going up for you."

He actually had the balls to say "Well, I have bills to pay, you know." Again, I assumed the role of Evil StepMother (because my husband just looked at him in shock) and said "You know what? So do your father and I. We have considerably more. And yet, you bitch about three credit cards? Stop it. I don't want to hear it. We take care of everything but the satellite that YOU had to have. You're getting off easy." Then I left the room.

It's getting very tense in this house.

***

On the moving front, my parents' elderly neighbor is considering moving closer to town to be near his wife who is in a nursing home. Steve said that maybe he'd allow us to rent if from him, assuming we could find Steve a job reasonably local.

I was outside talking to our neighbor Charlie and he mentioned that someone had broken into his house and his aunt's house over the weekend. He mentioned if after I said something about the police being in front of his aunt's house and I hoped she was okay.

As it is, I keep the dogs in the house for an alarm system. The doors are always locked. The cars are always locked. I feel reasonably safe. There's a registered sex offender that lives one block up the hill and two blocks down the street. But, my kids aren't out wandering by themselves, so I'm okay. But, now. People are breaking into the house right next door to mine and walking out with guns.

I want the fuck out of this town, this house.

I'm pushing the renting the neighbor's house theory, people. Pushing it real good.

***

And the topper of the shit cake that was my weekend, I wasn't going to write about this because that makes it real. But I promised myself this blog would be honest. I think Steve kind of threatened me with divorce.

See, I'm real big on trying to 'fix' whatever's wrong. And since he walks around looking pissed off 98% of the time, I'm always asking him what's wrong. On the way to check out the car we ended up buying, he blew up at me. "That's what's wrong with me. You're always asking me that. I've told you and told you. The boys are annoying me. My back hurts. I'm tired. If you want us to separate, just keep asking me what's wrong. That's what's wrong, Prudence. Everything is wrong. We have to buy a car, which we can't afford really, because my sons screwed everything up again."

Being me, I just my mouth and looked out the window. Then, ironically, he asked me what was wrong. "Doesn't matter. Just go." "You have to tell me what's bothering you so I can fix it. You always want to know what I'm thinking about but when I tell you, you get mad." "Well genius. Telling me that you're going to divorce me because I want to know what's wrong with you? Not helping. So I'll stop asking you and then you can be miserable all by yourself. Okay? Happy now?" "I didn't mean separate as in divorce, I meant separate like not connected the way we used to be." "Sure you did. Fine." Not one more word was spoked until we got to the dealership.

And it's still bugging me. Just one more thing that I've done wrong. Only this time, it was supposed to be for keeps. This time I've got babies in it. This time, I'm not quitting. He can, but it'll be all on him.

These mother-fucking-goddamned-sons-a-bitching 'boys' are ruining my marriage. And I really don't know how much longer I can put up with it. Something's got to give. Soon.