26 May 2011
Rainy days and Mondays...
always make me want to spend the day in bed.
But truthfully? I never do.
I know, I know... y'all are thinking, "Girlfriend is unemployed and spends the day whining and complaining on Facebook... what does she mean she never spends the day in bed?"
It may appear that I am lazy, unproductive, and unmotivated, but that's not so much true. (Mostly.)
I have been cursed with a little known condition called "Can't Relax-itis." I think I inherited it from my grandmother, who barely sat down long enough to decide she'd had enough of this Earthly Life and announce that she would be heading to Heaven soon. (I'm not kidding... My niece told her that she wanted Grammy to be in her wedding, which would be two months after her 90th birthday. Grammy said, "Well, that's nice, honey, but I won't be there." My sister chimed in with, "Of course you will be, Grammy! You aren't going anywhere!" And Grammy said, "Oh really? And where do you get YOUR information?" True and stubborn and beautifully French to the end, she passed away less than a month later.)
Anyway, I have a really, REALLY hard time sitting down and doing nothing. If I'm not multi-tasking, I'm wiggling my foot and going slightly crazy because if I'm not utilizing both sides of my brain at the same time, I'm bored.
This has led to many a ridiculous fight with Dan. He, on the other hand, can ONLY do one thing at a time. Which drives me crazy. On the rare occasions that he's had to make himself dinner, he cooks ONE THING AT A TIME (after asking me what he should eat). He will heat up his soup standing next to the microwave watching it spin in circles until it dings. THEN he gets out his sandwich fixins and takes 5 MINUTES to make his sandwich. (Footnote: According to spellcheck, I have been spelling "sandwich" wrong my entire life. Who knew there weren't two H's in it?? Not me!!)
Now that the soup is cold and the sandwich is finally freaking ready, he hunts down the Saltines (which for some reason he hasn't figured out are in the same cupboard as all the other crackers), pours himself a soda (after asking me what there is to drink), and finally sits down to eat it. This irritates me SO MUCH that 99% of the time even if I'm in the middle of doing something else, I will stop what I'm doing and fix lunch for him.
He gets all pouty and says things like, "Stop treating me like a little kid..." to which *I* reply...
Never mind. Needless to say, he gets glad in the same pants he got mad in and eats the lunch I prepare for him.
So movie night in our house is a Once in a Blue Moon thing because Dan can't stand watching movies with me. It's not because I tear the movie apart the entire time I'm watching it, making fun of the plot, rolling my eyes at the dialogue, and saying "Yeah... THAT could happen...." every 22 seconds. (Because THAT? NEVER gets old. Am I right?)
It's because I can't just sit and watch a movie.
(We NEVER go to the theater to see a film because I get so out of my mind BORED just sitting there I miss half of the movie because I get up and down so many times. They should leave the lights turned up so I can read.)
Our Movie Nights go like this:
Dan will finally pick out a movie that I am willing to watch. It has to be a) funny b) not starring Adam Sandler, Will Ferrel, or Jim Carrey c) contain NO parts about a potentially dying animal/baby/parent/sibling/friend (in other words? No dead people... not because they scare me but because I LOATHE movies that make me cry) and d) be less than 2 hours long.
(You'd be amazed at how few movies meet this criteria.)
"Sweeping epics," "beautiful films," action/adventure, war movies, sci-fi, animation, chick flicks and anything using the Disney-Pixar label are not allowed. (Damn you, Wendy, for making me watch that incredibly heart-wrenching, tragic documentary last summer about the guy and his baby who were killed by his ex-wife... I think it was called Dear Zachary and it was devastating to watch. I hate you forever for making me cry for 2 hours and never allow me to forget this story.)
Seriously, I don't want to think, I don't want to cry, I don't want to be glued to my seat or catch my breath or squeal in fear and delight. I just want to laugh while I do other things.
Meanwhile, back to movie night.
Dan will put the DVD in and sit on the couch, remote in hand, waiting breathlessly for me to stop scurrying around the house and sit down.
Dan: Are you ready?
Me: Just a minute.
*five minutes later*
Dan: Are you ready?
Me: Hang on, I need to pee.
*five minutes later*
Dan: WOULD YOU JUST SIT DOWN?
I sit, pick up a book, grab my knitting and my computer and prepare to watch the movie.
Dan: What are you doing?
Me: I need something to do while we watch the movie.
Dan: Can't you just watch the movie?
Me: I WILL watch the movie.
Dan: *looking pissed* I thought we were going to watch a movie together.
Me: We ARE! I'm sitting here, right?
He clicks play and I open my book.
Thus begins the Argument That Lasts Until The Movie Ends (and beyond).
He huffs and puffs and pouts; I ignore and keep reading my book.
He clicks pause and glares meaningfully at the television screen; I sigh and close my book.
He says, "Thank you..." in a soulful, puppy-dog way that implies I just saved his mother by pushing her out of the way of an oncoming train; I think "Whatever" but say "You're welcome" because seriously? I feel like I'm doing him a huge favor.
I get up to pee 15 times; he offers to hit pause but I say, "No, no... that's okay... I'll pee with the door open so I don't miss a SECOND of dialogue."
I sit next to him and wiggle my foot, knitting frantically, while my mind wanders down 200 different paths, and I try really, really hard to pay attention to what's happening on screen.
Dan laughs his ass off and claps his hands, I giggle unconvincingly and wonder what just happened.
Dan rewinds to hear the part that he laughed through while I think, "NOOoooo... I have to watch this damn movie for 10 extra seconds??!!"
When it finally (mercifully) ends, Dan will say, "Was it THAT HARD for you to sit there with me for TWO HOURS?"
I always say, "No, of course not! That was great!" while inside I'm thinking, "You have nooooo frickin clue."
Which is why the IDEA of spending a rainy day relaxing in bed is nice but will probably never happen.
I don't even stay in bed when I'm sick. I drag my tired, aching, germy body into the livingroom and miserably clean the house.
When I had surgery 5 years ago and almost died from MRSA, I was still up washing dishes and vacuuming with the IV hanging out of my boob (you read that right) while Dan slept half the day and watched sports (because he needed to take time off of work to "help me out." Yeah... he was indispensable.)
I bounce out of bed the second I wake up and feel my blood pressure rise while Dan hits snooze 1500 times.
I don't nap, I don't vege, I don't lay around eating bon-bons because I can't. Sit. Still.
When I'm deeply engrossed in my murder and mayhem DVR marathons, what you DON'T know is that I only pay attention to about half of it because I'm also vacuuming, reading, surfing the internet, knitting, crocheting, brushing up on my sign language, drawing, doing the dishes, dusting, and folding laundry at the same time.
Okay, and here's my biggest confession of the day: As much as I bitch about Dan's inability to do anything... ANYTHING... for himself (I seriously do everything except go to the bathroom for him) the REASON he doesn't do anything for himself is because I don't LET him... because watching him do it makes me crazy and kind of want to hurt him.
So the fact that I'm lying in my bed right now with Javi and Maisy, listening to the rain while blogging, is nothing short of miraculous. I actually had to FORCE myself to do this. But I WANTED to listen to it rain, have the window open, smell the fresh air and the lilac that gets so much stronger when it's storming and appreciate the coolness, the breeze, and newness (to me, anyway) of an electrical storm in May.
I know I'll pop up any second now and do something else, but it was nice while it lasted. Maybe I'll watch a movie with Dan tonight...
Yeah, probably not.
It's the thought that counts, yes?