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Saturday, December 8, 2012

Hierarchy of needs, sort of


I got myself a tree.

...

Well, a shrubbery.  It's simple, but I needed something.



I ended up sick on the couch for half of yesterday and most of today, therefore sacking my plans to go see Patrick, which means barring some weekend dinner meetups at the halfway point, we won't spend time together until Christmas Eve since my weekend work hours vary.  On one hand, 2012 has made us feel like a bad-ass couple, taking a lot of really tough stuff and punching our way through it and remaining incredibly staunchly supportive and magnet-close and non-irritated with each other, when issues like this do break people.  Not just up, either; go watch Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf.  Of course the downside is we end up getting a little snobby-smug when we see other people arguing about what we consider to be Stupid Shit.  Amateurs, we want to say.  But of course what the outsider to a relationship sees of a couple is never the whole story.  Arguing about Stupid Shit could just as easily have become what we do in the face of stress.  You never really get the whole picture of things.

I want to say 2013 will be different, that this catalyst will prove wonderful, I know that part of this Season Of Blahs is that we're in that transition state and we're far apart.  That once we're together things will be easier to handle.

< Complaint-fest >

I think what's really frustrating is to go from working really, really hard to be a homeowner to living in a shitty apartment where I get the distinct impression that at least some of my neighbors are dealing drugs.  It's really hard to find a place to rent that will allow the two dogs that were acquired when Patrick and I bought a home (one, yes; two however...).  It's hard to transition to having to bundle myself up and unlatch my apartment, re-lock it behind me, walk the dog down the hallway hoping he only barks back at *some* of the dogs that bark from inside the hallway doors, go outside, let him go, then unlock the building, walk back down the barkway, unlock my apartment, let him back in, then re-lock myself in.  There's a reason we had the dogs in a house where we could just open the kitchen door.  WHY DO YOU HAVE TO PEE, DOG?  CAN'T YOU HOLD IT?  FOREVER?  And I can't just bundle him back over to Patrick; this apartment is shitty and I need the semblance of security he provides (he's a Corgi but he *sounds* like a bigger dog).  To make matters more interesting (read: forever sad) I live between a fire station and a hospital, meaning that I haven't slept through the night in ages considering the sirens and the subsequent barking of my dog at said sirens (I'm sure the neighbors aren't pleased but they haven't complained...doing nefarious things means you want to keep a low profile, after all).  My apartment building also doesn't get hot water unless I get up at 6AM, turn on the shower, then go back to sleep until 6:40 at which point it will just have turned hot.  I have it down to a sad science.  (And I wonder why I'm finally sick.  Crap apartment, loss of sleep, occasional cold showers in winter, stress...whodathuinkit.)

< / complaints> 

So I want to say 2013 will be better.  I know it will be different.  The good thing in the crap apartment situation is that if we can rentthishouseoutdammit, then we can continue to live cheaply and Patrick can spend time job-hunting full-time, and we could potentially set aside money for medical stuff down the road.

I feel like I should be able to log this experience better, share it with other people who are going through similarly tough things, be eloquent about it (I have an entire undergrad degree in that!) but the thing is, so much of this experience of moving away from Patrick to start over for both of us is unremarkably mundane.  Now when I go grocery shopping after going to the dog-park it's hard to truck everything inside with the dog and bags and an apartment building to navigate through with only two hands when I know the dog in the apartment across the hall will bark like crazy if I dawdle outside my apartment door with my dog for more than a few seconds.  Sometimes I worry that Patrick or I will get into a car crash or something and the other won't be able to make it to the hospital in time.  Not very enlightening stuff.  Snoozeville.  I like writing for other people rather than just rambling online like I used to with LiveJournal and like I am right now, but everything is static, and the good parts like my job are the things I don't like talking about online much since I work with the public and all.  I can be rah-rah about some stuff, but eventually I find myself stuck in a blog-black hole.  More posts about infertility?  I feel like a broken record; this stuff is tough, tougher still when you're living apart, but not tougher than anything under the sun, either, because holy shit people go through other tougher things -- what more can I possibly say?  I want to make what I write matter.  This post doesn't seem to *do* anything except act as a placeholder.

So for now, I'm setting up my little rosemary tree, hoping 2013 will be better, hoping another ambulance or fire-truck doesn't pass by since the dog JUST fell asleep on the couch, hoping I feel well enough tomorrow to drive an hour and a half to get dinner with Patrick.  My life has been whittled down to very, very simple wants.  Like reliably hot showers.

1 comment:

  1. Well, if it makes you feel better, 2011 was a horrid year for me and 2012 is a little better, so I think we can hope for gradual upward progression if that's what we want :)

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