Must. Kill. Boyfriend.
I should never be allowed near firearms. Truthfully, guns scare me to death. But if I'd had one this morning, boyfriend might not be breathing right now.
He had promised me he wouldn't play golf today--that he'd stay home and help me tidy up the condo. My friend's plane lands at 3:00. I did some laundry last night, but I was just too spent to do much else. I told the boyfriend after work yesterday that I felt like a balloon that had been deflated. Pshoooooosh. I think it was all just too much at once. Finally leaving that job (and it still hasn't fully sunk in that I don't have to go back there on Monday...or EVER)...our sudden decision to move...and having my employer hand me an envelope as he left the office which contained a check so large I was shocked.
That's all just to say that by 8:30 last night, I was asleep. I was up at 5, but waited until 9 until I started putzing around. I didn't wake up the boyfriend, but knew the noise would eventually wake him. He strolled out to the living room about 9:30. I thought he'd be ready to join in with the cleaning, but instead he sat down at the laptop. Okay, I thought, I'll give him a few minutes--maybe he just wants to check his email. But an hour later he was still sitting there. Meanwhile, I was cleaning all around him with maximum sound effects--grunting, groaning--letting him know how much energy I was expending. Nothing. Then I walked behind where he was sitting and saw that he wasn't surfing the net or checking his email. He was in a software called Photo Impressions and he was making photo collages of fucking golf club heads. We have a club-making business on the side. But still. GOLF CLUB HEADS. By now, it was T-minus 4 hours until my friend arrives. I truly hated him. Mind you, he wasn't saying a word. We weren't speaking. He was just sitting there quietly at the laptop with a look of such intense concentration that you would have thought he was nearing a cure for cancer. But, no...GOLF CLUB HEADS. I was drinking a glass of water as I stood there behind him and honestly, I fantasized about what a satisfying clunk the glass would make if I lobbed it at the back of his head right then.
Then I moved to the bedroom to start tidying up in there. I was in the process of hanging up all of the clothes I had piled atop the seat of the exercise bike (because that is what it's for, right?) The entire time I was thinking how much I hated him right now and wanted to kill him. Just then, as I reached into the closet for a hanger, something (I still don't know what) on one of the hangers jammed under my right thumbnail. Oh.my.fucking.god did that hurt. I've had plenty of things jam under my fingernails over the years, but NOTHING that hurt like that. I was literally doubled over for a couple of minutes--gasping, applying pressure to my thumb because that seemed to feel better, groaning. Do you think my boyfriend came running to see what had happened? To see if I was seriously injured? Nope. Just kept printing out his photo collages of fucking GOLF CLUB HEADS. Then it really WAS too much. I burst into tears, flung myself onto the bed and bawled hard for a couple of minutes--all the while holding my now-bleeding thumb. (How can our noses create so much snot so instantaneously?) It did sort of cross my mind that it might have served me just a tiny bit right for thinking such murderous thoughts, but I quickly scratched that from my brain.
Once I finished tidying up the bedroom, I moved to the bathroom. I could still hear the printer cranking out photos of fucking GOLF CLUB HEADS. As I was standing at the vanity, having just finished cleaning the entire area, he suddenly showed up. He stood extra close to me, looked at me and smiled. I pushed him away and told him I hated him. He laughed and asked, "Why?" I thought, how can he possibly be so dense? I asked, "What's the last thing that needs to be done right now?" "Wash the car." "NO! What's the LAST thing that needs to be done RIGHT NOW?" He looked mystified. "Printing out photos of FUCKING GOLF CLUB HEADS!!!" He just laughed and said, "But that's for our business. I'm trying to make us some money." "AFTER the work is done."
Then he walked out to the living room, put a tape on (which I mysteriously had never heard, but he has gazillions), pressed play and I heard, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Rhythm Safari recording artist..." and I knew it was a show he'd done with my old singer pal. Turns out it was a show in L.A. where they opened for Steve Miller. And then he stepped outside and began tidying up and sweeping the balcony.
Don't let that sweet demeanor fool you. The boyfriend's a wily man. He knows I can't stay mad at him for too long if I'm listening to him play music, and playing music that I like. But I still hate him. Sort of.
Oh yeah, I'm on my period. But that's beside the point.
He had promised me he wouldn't play golf today--that he'd stay home and help me tidy up the condo. My friend's plane lands at 3:00. I did some laundry last night, but I was just too spent to do much else. I told the boyfriend after work yesterday that I felt like a balloon that had been deflated. Pshoooooosh. I think it was all just too much at once. Finally leaving that job (and it still hasn't fully sunk in that I don't have to go back there on Monday...or EVER)...our sudden decision to move...and having my employer hand me an envelope as he left the office which contained a check so large I was shocked.
That's all just to say that by 8:30 last night, I was asleep. I was up at 5, but waited until 9 until I started putzing around. I didn't wake up the boyfriend, but knew the noise would eventually wake him. He strolled out to the living room about 9:30. I thought he'd be ready to join in with the cleaning, but instead he sat down at the laptop. Okay, I thought, I'll give him a few minutes--maybe he just wants to check his email. But an hour later he was still sitting there. Meanwhile, I was cleaning all around him with maximum sound effects--grunting, groaning--letting him know how much energy I was expending. Nothing. Then I walked behind where he was sitting and saw that he wasn't surfing the net or checking his email. He was in a software called Photo Impressions and he was making photo collages of fucking golf club heads. We have a club-making business on the side. But still. GOLF CLUB HEADS. By now, it was T-minus 4 hours until my friend arrives. I truly hated him. Mind you, he wasn't saying a word. We weren't speaking. He was just sitting there quietly at the laptop with a look of such intense concentration that you would have thought he was nearing a cure for cancer. But, no...GOLF CLUB HEADS. I was drinking a glass of water as I stood there behind him and honestly, I fantasized about what a satisfying clunk the glass would make if I lobbed it at the back of his head right then.
Then I moved to the bedroom to start tidying up in there. I was in the process of hanging up all of the clothes I had piled atop the seat of the exercise bike (because that is what it's for, right?) The entire time I was thinking how much I hated him right now and wanted to kill him. Just then, as I reached into the closet for a hanger, something (I still don't know what) on one of the hangers jammed under my right thumbnail. Oh.my.fucking.god did that hurt. I've had plenty of things jam under my fingernails over the years, but NOTHING that hurt like that. I was literally doubled over for a couple of minutes--gasping, applying pressure to my thumb because that seemed to feel better, groaning. Do you think my boyfriend came running to see what had happened? To see if I was seriously injured? Nope. Just kept printing out his photo collages of fucking GOLF CLUB HEADS. Then it really WAS too much. I burst into tears, flung myself onto the bed and bawled hard for a couple of minutes--all the while holding my now-bleeding thumb. (How can our noses create so much snot so instantaneously?) It did sort of cross my mind that it might have served me just a tiny bit right for thinking such murderous thoughts, but I quickly scratched that from my brain.
Once I finished tidying up the bedroom, I moved to the bathroom. I could still hear the printer cranking out photos of fucking GOLF CLUB HEADS. As I was standing at the vanity, having just finished cleaning the entire area, he suddenly showed up. He stood extra close to me, looked at me and smiled. I pushed him away and told him I hated him. He laughed and asked, "Why?" I thought, how can he possibly be so dense? I asked, "What's the last thing that needs to be done right now?" "Wash the car." "NO! What's the LAST thing that needs to be done RIGHT NOW?" He looked mystified. "Printing out photos of FUCKING GOLF CLUB HEADS!!!" He just laughed and said, "But that's for our business. I'm trying to make us some money." "AFTER the work is done."
Then he walked out to the living room, put a tape on (which I mysteriously had never heard, but he has gazillions), pressed play and I heard, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Rhythm Safari recording artist..." and I knew it was a show he'd done with my old singer pal. Turns out it was a show in L.A. where they opened for Steve Miller. And then he stepped outside and began tidying up and sweeping the balcony.
Don't let that sweet demeanor fool you. The boyfriend's a wily man. He knows I can't stay mad at him for too long if I'm listening to him play music, and playing music that I like. But I still hate him. Sort of.
Oh yeah, I'm on my period. But that's beside the point.
posted by Marilyn at 12:11 AM
9 Comments:
You are so getting linked for this. :)
LOL! That is how I feel when I need to clean and my boyfriend gets out his bass and starts practcing after he has promised to help me.
That was such a funny post! I think we have all been there and that's what makes it so hilarious. He probably was totally oblivious. Hope you thumb is better and that you are having a great time with your friend!
wahahahahah! You make me want to get me one of those boyfriend things . . . sort of :) Yay! No more cruddy job! Big check! Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!
Yup, Yup, Yup....they are sooo oblivious when things need to get done!!! Too funny, my own murderous thoughts are right in sync.Guarding my thumbs. xoxo Jeri
Great post! It's nice to know that other people fantasize about killing or at the very least, maiming their true love. He is a smart man, putting on music that you love - younger guys should learn his tricks! And how happy I am for you, no more sucky stupid job. You are on your way now! ~ samantha
Marilyn,
I am so blown away by your blog! I just found an old note with your blog address. CONGRATULATIONS on your ANNIVERSARY and HAPPY BIRTHDDAY ON YOUR BIG 50TH!. I'll be reading. Keep me entertained. Keep the blog in California.
MSG
ha! i think many of us can relate to this post. :-)
The last line is THE BEST. :) Thanks for the laugh! I *totally* agree with lizardek. Editing my bloggy list to include you!
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