The “Bad Husband” Chronicles

Just another day for you and me in Paradise

Posts Tagged ‘in-laws’

How long does a tear take to dry?

Posted by mozziestarlet on January 13, 2009

Despite being busy and preoccupied with my new job, I spend so much of my time internalizing and contemplating my personal situation.  I think about my bad husband, the heartbreak of divorce, and the task of starting my life over again on my own.  If I am truly honest with myself, I’ve been alone even in my marriages.  I enjoyed several blissful years with Husband #1 before he became a slave to his pocket compass and travelled the road of infidelity.  So, I know the beauty of a truly fruitful relationship, even though the memory has become faded over the years and through the natural progression of time.  Do you ever find yourself wondering why some people ‘get lucky’ and find their ideal match in life while others fall into peril?  I in no way mean to appear flippant as if I do not take any responsibility for my poor decisions, but I can’t help but ponder how there appears to be no rhyme or reason to it.  I’ve known others, like myself, who carefully dated their spouse for years before taking the walk down the plank, only to discover an intricate web of deception once they were married.  Then, on the other hand, there are those who are swept into a whirlwind romance of only a few months before marriage and are STILL happily married many years later.  This just proves to me that there is truly no magic formula involved.

Despite the hardship the husband has caused me over the years, I do care for him and wish for his happiness.  As I’ve mentioned before, he still doesn’t ‘get it’ and grieves over the loss of me and our marriage.  He emails or texts me lamenting messages of how he is miserable without me and general tales of ‘Oh Woe is me’ on a daily basis.  How do you deal with a situation like this?  It seems responding to his repeated cries only makes things worse and perhaps the best route is avoidance.  I am not the one who can ease his pain and comfort him.  That can only be something that he must learn to find within himself.

It reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from the movie ‘The Way We Were.’  Katie, a headstrong and opinionated gal, has lost her true love, Hubbel, and he moves out to stay with a friend.  He’s gone for only a few hours and she picks up the phone, out of sheer torture and habit, and pleads for him to come home and stay with her until she can fall asleep.  She says, “You see, Hubbel.  You are my best friend and I need to talk to my best friend about someone we both know.  So, will you, Hubbel?  Will you come and see me through tonight?  I promise I won’t touch you or beg you or embarrass you.  So Hubbel, could you come over right away?  Please…please?”  This scene has always touched me, but I truly understand the meaning of it now in my own life.  As Morrissey says, “I’ve seen this happen in other peoples’ lives, but now it’s happening in mine.”

So, how long does a tear take to dry?  I think, for some, it takes an eternity.

 

Below is the movie clip referenced above.  Enjoy.

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Chapter 23: The Countess of Wedgewood

Posted by mozziestarlet on October 11, 2008

10am:  It’s Saturday morning and I am preparing for a much needed ‘Girls day out’ with my Mom and favorite aunt, ‘The Countess of Wedgewood.’  She was crowned with this title years ago when I realized how much fun it was to surprise her with a wedgie or two when she was completely unsuspecting.  I don’t know how it still manages to be so funny after so many years, but it’s always sufficiently hilarious.

 

1pm:  The husband phones me to request if I can pick him up some lunch since “I am already out and about, you know?”  His car parked in the driveway can only be operated in conjunction with his grueling work schedule of four days per week.  I firmly stand my ground and tell him that he’s on his own for the afternoon and he’ll have to remove his fanny from the recliner and make his way into the kitchen.

 

4pm:  ‘The Countess’ and I are shopping for shoes and comparing notes and styles.  Given that I am blessed with grace and coordination, I back into an enormous display of stacked shoe boxes.  Inevitably, they all come crashing down in a thunderous display and I work quickly to cover my tracks.  Other shoppers are staring out of curiosity as to what caused the calamity, so I turn to ‘The Countess’ and say, “Good grief!  I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”  Being the sweet Southern belle that she is, it takes her a second to realize that I am pinning my clumsy behavior on her.  She starts to blush (as I often do) from other shoppers gazing her way.  Thankfully, she has always appreciated my sense of humor and we both begin to giggle uncontrollably.  Not a bad way to spend an afternoon…chuckling and teasing someone who is so close to your heart.  She has always held a top spot on my list.

 

11pm:  I arrive home after my full day off with my bed beckoning from upstairs. I head upstairs and complete my nightly routine: shower, scrub my pearly whites and change into an old t-shirt and floppy, cotton shorts.  I slide into the bed, snuggle up with my snaggle-toothed puppy and submerge myself in Morrissey’s lyrical genius, “Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep, I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”  The husband has exceeded the recommended dosage of Tylenol PM tonight, so it’s looking like a real possibility for me.  I say my prayers and tell the Big JC, “Thanks.  I owe you one.”

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Poem and song of the day

Posted by mozziestarlet on October 9, 2008

“i carry your heart with me”

by e. e. cummings

i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

 

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

 

 Brilliant song of the day:

“A little time” by The Beautiful South

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in "Bad Husband" Chronicles, Bad boss, Bad Husband, bad marriage, bad spouse, co-workers, Comic Wit, Difficult Spouse, Dogs, family, Funny, Humor, Irony, Life, Love, Marriage, marriage problems, Morrissey, Office drama, office humor, office politics, Pets, poetry, relationships, sarcasm, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Chapter 21

Posted by mozziestarlet on October 8, 2008

8am: I arrive to the office and receive an IM from my favorite co-worker, ‘Mack the Knife, that truly hard-working fella that arrives before 7am every morning. He tells me to come to his office ASAP for the funniest story in the world. Being a fan of comedy, particularly in regard to my imbecile co-workers, I quickly make my way to his office. He proceeds to tell me that he accidentally called ‘Deer in Headlights’ on her cell phone instead of her office phone at 6am. Unbelievably, she answered the phone between snores. The absolute kicker of the story is that even though she was awake at 6am, she still couldn’t make it to the office until 9:45. Classic!

10am: An hour has passed since my 9am deadline to the involved parties in the office to send me their input for a proposal to a client. Reluctantly, I send out another email requesting their information ASAP. Two more hours pass and I haven’t heard a peep out of them. It looks like another all-nighter is in store for me.

1pm: ‘Deer in Headlights’ stops by my office to tell me that ‘Clueless VP’ is just now reviewing the proposal, despite the fact that he’s had it in his possession for nearly three weeks. I’ve said it many times, but I’ll say it again: “Poor planning on his part always constitutes an emergency on my part.” God bless him.

3pm: I leave my office to head out of the office suite to the lobby restroom. The property managers for our office building have been working on renovations to the building for over three months now. I am immediately knocked off my feet by the paint fumes filling the air. ‘Old Mother Hubbard,’ the Executive Assistant to the CEO, informs me to use the downstairs restroom because they have broken up the floor tile in the upstairs restroom and it is not suitable to use. ‘Old Mother Hubbard’ and I step aboard the elevator together to head downstairs. The elevator doors close and she begins to tell me how nauseous the paint fumes are making her. I completely agree with her and smile in return. After thirty seconds pass, she begins to gag and dry heave. Being on an elevator in transit with another person who is about to hurl is my favorite place to be.

5pm: The CEO, who practices a strict ‘closed door policy’ as far as he is concerned, emerges to circulate among the slaves for the first time in nearly six months. He does his trademark ‘Mr. America’ stroll through the office, waving and blowing kisses at all of us. I have to bite my lip to keep from saying, “Hey there, have a good Christmas!” Keep in mind, my friends, it is only October.

“My future starts when I wake up every morning.  Every day, I find something creative to do with my life.”

– Miles Davis

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Chapter 18

Posted by mozziestarlet on October 5, 2008

8am:  It’s Saturday morning and I have just enjoyed the first night of sweet slumber in months, perhaps longer.  The extra half of Xanax did the proverbial trick and unbelievably, I woke with the bed still intact.  No comforter in the bathroom, top sheet in the hallway or pillows scattered all about the bedroom.  Being the ‘Queen of Internalization,’ I usually wake thinking that a tornado has struck the bedroom.  It amazes me that one person can sufficiently destroy the bed just by sleeping…tossing and turning like an emotional hurricane.

 

8:30am:  I make my way downstairs to the kitchen to discover that the husband has committed the cardinal sin:  Drinking the last of the milk and leaving none for my breakfast.  This is by far, the most offensive behavior of all.  Captain Crunch with Crunchberries are always a delight, but milk does help to sweeten the pot.

 

10am:  I fight with the dog over the comfy spot on the sofa.  We settle in and decide to share the coveted spot, which inevitably leads to a three-hour nap.  Oh, such sweet slumber to be in the paws of your favorite fella.

 

1pm:  The husband has still not made his way downstairs as he’s obviously exhausted from staying up all night watching the most boring TV shows known to man.  I’ve always been careful in pointing out to him that hours spent in front of the TV makes you a PhD in Idiocy.  He should earn his degree any day down.

 

1:30pm:  I’m still harboring my ill will at the husband for committing the cardinal sin, so I entertain the notion of trotting upstairs, building up sufficient speed, and belly-flopping directly on top of the sleeping giant.  However, in a situation like that, I’d be the only one laughing (as usual).

 

7pm:  I meet the parental units for supper and receive a much needed hug.  A heartfelt hug with true love and feeling supporting it is always the best to receive.  I may not always articulate it as I should, but my gratitude in that regard, knows no limitation.

 

9pm:  I spend the remainder of my evening talking with a lovely friend.  And yes, you know who you are.  Genuine friendship is the best thing to tuck under your pillow before you bury yourself in slumber.  Between that and the Xanax, I slept like a baby.  “Oh, such a little thing.  But, the difference it made was grave.”

 

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Chapter 14

Posted by mozziestarlet on October 1, 2008

4pm:  The husband requires a lift to the airport to catch a plane to visit his parental units.  The railway system that runs from our area directly to the airport is not sufficient to handle a man of leisure that is as well-traveled as he is.

 

6pm:  I drop the dog off at the vet for a weekend of puppy R&R as I am preparing for departure the following morning to visit the in-laws and enjoy a tearful reunion with the husband.  One night of completely uninterrupted sleep has been too heavy a burden for me to bear.  It’s only when I get five hours of sleep or less that I can truly be at my best.

 

7pm:  The husband arrives in his hometown to be greeted at the airport by his elderly father who has just endured a two-way heart bypass operation three weeks prior.  It takes at least a five-way bypass for the husband to consider relieving his father of his required chauffeur duties.

 

8pm:  The husband is hungry and asks his elderly father the $24,000 question:  “Hey Dad, what’s for dinner?”  Given that his father is lucky to make it from the bed to the john since his operation, he’s clearly had plenty of time to plan a five-star menu for the husband’s stay.  Realizing that his father has not prepared dinner, the husband turns to his Dad and says, “Dad, do you think you could go pick up some dinner?  I mean, you know where all the restaurants are around here.”  The husband lovingly carries his father’s oxygen tank out to the car so that his Dad can receive adequate oxygen while he’s waiting in the drive-thru lane.

 

11pm:  The husband carefully inspects the guest quarters of his parents’ home where he will be staying during his visit.  After a comprehensive, two minute assessment, the husband politely requests that he sleep in his parents’ bed.  After all, a two hour flight is much more taxing on the body than a heart bypass operation, so it’s only “right…okay, Dad?”

 

12pm:  The husband has assumed his rightful spot in his parents’ living room, glued to the boob tube.  Given that he visits his parents once a year, all possible conversation and interaction is sufficiently handled within the first hour of his stay.  His mother looks over to her son and unsuccessfully tries to have a conversation with him.  The husband manages to ignore her with impressive skill for ten minutes before he falls asleep in the recliner and she retires to bed in the guest quarters.  Surely, the husband knows that there’s nothing quite like a Mother’s love and ignorant bliss…and the husband is right at home.

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