The last few days have been a little rough. Felt like I went white water rafting without the raft. Been wrapped up in how I was going to handle this blessed but stressful retirement event. Didn’t take into account how Mr. Husband was handling it. Turns out the answer is not well. When he gets stressed he tends to morphs into his father and start pontificating from his throne (e-z-boy-recliner.)
I feel like I’m being tested. Hmmm…just how much of me can you stand, darling wife? He has taken to hanging around the house in grey droopy gyms shorts and no shirt, rubbing his belly, with his glasses hanging off the end of his nose. He looks for all the world, like a half-naked version of Rush Limbaugh. I’m a Democrat so, to put it mildly, anything that brings to mind ole’ Rush gives me the heaves and an almost overwhelming desire to get in my car and drive 100 mph to Venezuela, just crashing through the border crossings without looking back. Don’t ask me why there. It’s just the farthest away on the continent I can picture driving.
He has taken to barking orders at me like I’m a misbehaving field hand, in public, in a restaurant, in front of his mother. Perhaps this is a less than graceful attempt to feel more in control of the situation? I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist. Needless to say, the barking went over like a lead balloon. We haven’t really come to any resolution of this yet. He explains “why he did it.” My retort is “so if you have a reason, it’s ok to engage in unacceptable behavior?” This leaves me no assurance that this won’t happen again the next time you “have a reason.”
At the moment we’re at a stalemate, like 2 bull elks with their horns stuck together.