Self-protection
I have a wonderfully well-developed self-protection mechanism.
It keeps me strong.
It disables those processes that might otherwise lead me inexorably down the path to suicidal depression.
It enables me to make fun of his Swimming Pool escapade (chronicled mostly during June/July).
It prevents me from considering the consequences of his actions from me.
Why?
Because If I had considered those consequences fully back in June I'd have spent the past 7 weeks contemplating what I'm only now having to deal with.
What's that?
'That' is dismantling a swimming pool that wasn't swum in this year. It never amounted to anything more than a large hole in my back yard lined with plastic draped over an aluminium frame and filled with 6 inches of water that are now verdantly stagnant.
And someone is going to have to go in there get that water out, get that plastic clean, get that plastic dry, dismantle the entire thing and put it somewhere (any suggestions?) until next high summer, when he will once again think about how good it would be to put the swimming pool up.
And that someone won't be the Fat Bastard, and I sure as hell won't let it be the Infant. So that leaves Guess Who.
Shit, what a lousy way to spend Sunday afternoon ... even if it is supposed to be what English forecasters are describing as 'warm'.
Ha.
Oh ... I have a really excellent weather story that also involves the moon (and the sun) but I'm not going to do that tonight. But I am going to do that 'that' before we're [big hint here] flooded out.
My life is just fabulous. How the fuck did a fifty foot tall, bad tempered and very blood thirsty Greek Goddess wind up here listening out for the flood siren? If you don't know the answer read on (that's how the posts work, in reverse chronological order).
Good night.
It keeps me strong.
It disables those processes that might otherwise lead me inexorably down the path to suicidal depression.
It enables me to make fun of his Swimming Pool escapade (chronicled mostly during June/July).
It prevents me from considering the consequences of his actions from me.
Why?
Because If I had considered those consequences fully back in June I'd have spent the past 7 weeks contemplating what I'm only now having to deal with.
What's that?
'That' is dismantling a swimming pool that wasn't swum in this year. It never amounted to anything more than a large hole in my back yard lined with plastic draped over an aluminium frame and filled with 6 inches of water that are now verdantly stagnant.
And someone is going to have to go in there get that water out, get that plastic clean, get that plastic dry, dismantle the entire thing and put it somewhere (any suggestions?) until next high summer, when he will once again think about how good it would be to put the swimming pool up.
And that someone won't be the Fat Bastard, and I sure as hell won't let it be the Infant. So that leaves Guess Who.
Shit, what a lousy way to spend Sunday afternoon ... even if it is supposed to be what English forecasters are describing as 'warm'.
Ha.
Oh ... I have a really excellent weather story that also involves the moon (and the sun) but I'm not going to do that tonight. But I am going to do that 'that' before we're [big hint here] flooded out.
My life is just fabulous. How the fuck did a fifty foot tall, bad tempered and very blood thirsty Greek Goddess wind up here listening out for the flood siren? If you don't know the answer read on (that's how the posts work, in reverse chronological order).
Good night.
posted by Enyo @ 11:21 pm
1 Comments:
At 8:42 pm,
Lily said…
Hi again. Well, I have kept my promise and have spent the last few hours reading your blog and an enjoyable, if exhausting, experience it was! You do know, don't you, that unless your world is rocked by some cataclismic marital catastrophy, you are doomed to be still moaning about the FB while writing out the silver wedding card? I speak as one who is now into her 27th year and living with a man who can best be described via the new puppy metaphor -appealing, interesting, exciting to begin with; in time morphs into elderly, smelly, irritating but familiar companion. Unless he bites a chunk out of me one day, I'll probably still be putting up with him at the golden anniversary. And no, there isn't a compensatory sex life - hasn't been one worth mentioning for decades. I guess if you leave it long enough to make your move, you forget how. Good luck x
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