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it's not that bad . . . I guess - The Literary Exhibitionist
machupicchu
machupicchu
it's not that bad . . . I guess
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06252017-099


-- चार हजार एक सौ आठ --


Shobhit worked most of the evening last night, so I had most of my time after work to myself. I rode my bike home, made myself a quick quesadilla for dinner, and nearly finished my library book, a very good dystopian novel from 1993 that Laney recommended to me called Parable of the Sower. It was several days overdue and I finally returned it at the library this morning. And guess what? I just got notice that another book I'm super excited to read is already available for pickup. What perfect timing!

Anyway, then I went to the Egyptian to take myself to see The Exception, a movie about a Nazi soldier sent as a bodyguard for Kaiser Wilhelm in 1940. It seemed rather good on the surface, but the more I thought about it, thematically, the more issues I had with it. That kind of averaged out in the end to it being okay. Christopher Plummer was great in it, but he's always great.

There's another movie I want to see this week but that one's playing at the Uptown, which takes much longer to get to and get back from, as it's on Lower Queen Anne -- the Egyptian is only six blocks from home. That allowed me to get home plenty early enough to write the review, and be in bed soon after 10:00. Also, I slept very poorly on Sunday night, getting very little deep sleep, and I wanted to get to bed at a decent time as I knew I'd be tired enough to fall asleep quickly last night.

None of this seemed to matter or even occur to Shobhit, who apparently had such a bad day at work that he came home ready to be snippy and bitch about the bizarrest of otherwise mundane things. He seemed personally offended that I was in bed when I got home, and the first thing he said, dripping with hostility, was, "It's not even ten o'clock!" What the fuck?

Well, first of all, that was wrong. I had just gotten into bed and was looking at my phone. "No," I said. "It's 10:10." Then I added, "And I didn't sleep very well last night."

"So why did you go see a movie?" he said, as though it were obviously stupid for me to do so if I were going to be tired. Jesus fucking Christ. "Because I knew it would be over by nine," I said, as matter-of-factly as I could.

He then asked if there was any food for him, as though I had some obligation to have made him dinner. When I said no as he was changing clothes in the kitchen, he said, "I'll stop cooking for you too then." I did not have a lot of time for making dinner during the brief period of time I was home before seeing the movie. I could have waited to go to the movie tonight or tomorrow night, but do you know why I deliberately went last night instead? Because Shobhit worked last night, and this way I could be home with him for the evening the two nights this week he's not working. I had already indicated as much earlier when discussing the week's schedule, but now he was too wrapped up in his own stupid bullshit to think of that. I wanted so badly just to tell him to go fuck himself but I restrained myself.

Shobhit was so pissy, in fact, so wrapped up in his apparently bad day and finding any and all excuses to take it out on others, that he even took it out on the cat: he was in the kitchen and Guru was meowing at him, and he actually shouted at him, "Shut up!" Now, I do that to the cats myself semi-regularly, but Shobhit never, ever does that. I only mention it now because he really had a fucking problem last night.

I just went to sleep though. Being unconscious was way more pleasant than listening to that shit.

Shobhit had apparently had some rest and was nicer this morning. He asked me while I was getting ready, "Are you still mad at me?" -- a question I always hate. I've said this countless times already: he never truly cares why I'm upset about anything; all he cares about is that I not be anymore. What a healthy approach.

I wasn't really mad at that point, though. I just didn't know what to say, and I told him so. He proceeded to tell me he'd had a really bad day (this does not excuse bad behavior, ever), and even indicated I should have waited up for him to come home. Why? As I said to him, I did not know exactly when he would be home. And you know what? It would not have mattered if I were still up when he got home -- he so clearly was ready for a fight just for the sake of picking a fight, we probably just would have gotten into a bigger argument about something stupid if I weren't already in bed. So I refuse to accept that I had any such obligations, and furthermore I insist that my already being in bed was actually better.

I really wish he would just grow up. I'm not sure he ever will, though. It makes me genuinely sad for our future.

-- चार हजार एक सौ आठ --


06242017-20


-- चार हजार एक सौ आठ --


Well, is there something more positive I can tell you about? My day so far today has been fine, I guess! No worse or better than any usual day, and usually my days are fine. In fact, all that stuff I wrote about last night literally took up, like, five minutes. I suppose it could be argued I gave it undue attention in this entry, since it takes up a far larger percentage of the entry than that five minutes did of my day.

I've also been insanely horny the last few days, do you want to read about that? I bet you do! I can't remember the last time I went through a stretch of days like this. I really don't know why it's happening, and honestly I would rather go through another spell of not being horny at all. That's a lot easier to deal with, to be honest. I always thought it would be great if you could flip a switch that turned your sexuality on or off at will. I did become less enamored with that idea once I became a lot more sex positive, but going to the other extreme can be frustratingly distracting. And why the hell is this happening in my forties, anyway? I always expected sex drive to diminish with age. I have a great deal more of it now than I did about a decade ago, which I find very weird.

I should be studied.

Hmm. Should I write about the weather? A glance outside makes the weather seem semi-gloomy, if still on brand for Seattle: dry, but mostly cloudy. We're in the middle of a week with highs in the low- to mid-seventies, which I'm all about. That high of 91° on Sunday was too much; this is pretty much perfect. It was just barely warm enough for me to bike to work this morning without a jacket or hoodie. I guess the clouds are expected to burn off this afternoon, and these temperatures are expected pretty consistently for the foreseeable future, according to all forecasts I can find.

That's one thing that makes me happy. As do lots of other things, of course.

-- चार हजार एक सौ आठ --


06242017-21

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positive energy please