***WARNING***
This is an official rant about by dh. If you don't want to hear me complain about my husband's latest antics, if you are in a good place and love your dh right now and don't want to read anything that might make you second-guess your position (kidding...I still love mine, I'm just really Really *REALLY* ticked at him right now) then you might want to stop reading now.

Still with me? Okay..here goes...

He is being the biggest a**hole right now. As I was driving him to work, he starts off the day with this pithy remark:

"Ya know, I wish there was a way that we could have RoadRunner without cable."

"Uh..why?"

"Well, if we didn't have cable, then maybe you might do something around the house."

"Uh..excuse me?"

"There are boxes that need to be unpacked, there are clothes scattered all over the place, and there is no food in the house. All you do is sit around on your a** and watch movies on HBO."

It took everything I had not to pull the car over and kick him out of it. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard, it creaked. I could NOT believe the prick had the nerve to say all these things to me. Who unpacked the carloads worth of crap into this house and put 95% of if away? Me. Who makes the bed, does the dishes, loads and unloads the dishwasher, walks the dog half the time, and feeds the pets? Me! (Taylor walks the dog the other times). Who gets up at 7:15 in the morning to take his obnoxious ass to work, even though he is more than capable of driving himself, and we would save half a tank of gas a week if he would? Me.

I've cooked, cleaned, shopped, moved, lugged, unpacked and tossed a ton of stuff in an attempt to make this house a home; I fixed the computers, setup the cable modem (the cable guy was clueless...cute but clueless), fixed Taylor's computer and stood in line at the post office to pick up our mailbox keys.

And he's bitching because there is a unpacked box? Yeah, you heard me. ONE! One unpacked box..and it's still packed because I still haven't decided where it's all going to go, so I've been taking things out of it as I need them and finding homes for the items one-by-one.

I was thinking all this as I was driving his pathetic ass to work this morning..after getting up earlier than I needed to since I have this week off. (My job starts on Monday) I was going to say all this to him, and just as I was about to speak, he started again.

"Ya know, if I was lucky enough to have a week off, I would do more than sit around and watch TV."

Now, I was mad before...but at this point, I exploded. (WARNING: If strong language offends you, and you are still reading after the above post...then stop reading, cuz I'm about to make a soldier blush)

"Back the bus the fuck up! You sat around the house for three, count 'em three fucking months and didn't do a goddamn thing, other than complain that we didn't have any money and things weren't the way you wanted them to be. Then you decided that we were moving. But did you bother to look for a job? Oh, hell no. You left that to me. Now, here we are, we both have jobs, and all you can do is complain that there's an unpacked box in the kitchen? You couldn't be bothered with unloading the car ("I have to work in the morning, I don't want to do anything strenuous!" / "I had to work today, I'm tired!") so Taylor and I did it. You can't be bothered with walking the dog or feeding either of the pets..but you are going to bust my chops because I have a week off between jobs? Do you realize that I haven't had a vacation in almost five years? I've been the sole support for this family for four years...if I decide to take 6 months to unpack that last box, then so be it. If you have a problem with it, then unpack the damn box your own fucking self, otherwise shut the fuck up about it!"

I think he really wanted to hit me. But if THAT would have happened, he would have found himself lodged underneath the tires of my car, cuz I would have kicked him out of it then hit him with it.

The rest of the trip was in silence. When he got out of the car, his parting words were, "Maybe I should call someone else to pick me up tonight, and go stay with them."

"Well, if you do that, then let me know so I don't need to make the trip back here."

He glared at me and slammed the door as he walked away.

See, he thinks that threatening to leave me is going to make me bow to his whim. In his warped, twisted, self-absorbed brain, he is convinced that my survival is dependent on him. Well, I learned a LONG time ago that depending on him to be anything other than a headache and a pain in the ass, is suicide. So, his threats really holds no wieght for me.

Why am I still with him, you wonder? Because I love him, that's why. For now, that's still enough...but I'm not naive enough to believe that will always be the case. And just in case, I know I'm not perfect, and that I can be a royal bitch, but I really think I have gone above and beyond the call of duty where our relationship is concerned. The only responsibility he has is to earn a paycheck. But he grouses about doing that...then wants to criticze me for not doing everything else the way HE thinks it should be done...even though I also have a full-time job and a writing career. To me, it's not fair, and I am not willing to tolerate it. Not anymore.

Okay, that's my rant. If you got this far, thanks. I feel better just for posting it.
- posted by Kim @ 10:41 AM