I think Charlie and I completely switched roles today. For once he was laying around on the couch, complaining about not feeling well while I was running to get him food and drinks.
Okay, this isn't the way it is every day, but out of the two of us, I'm definitely the one who gets sick more often. Whether it's my allergies or a migraine, you can bet that once every few weeks I'm laid out on the couch or I just have to go to bed at 9pm because I can't see straight.
Charlie's always up to go out to eat or run around, take the dogs for a walk, whatever. He can't go to the gym often enough. I, on the other hand, am frequently willing to chill at home. I'm content watching a movie, flipping channels, or just reading with the stereo on.
Today I couldn't stand being stuck in the house. I got more done before 10am than I do most days, between getting Charlie breakfast, vitamins, or apple cider, and doing my homework, some laundry (including doing his and putting it away), dishes. Trying to be the dutiful, attentive spouse apparently wore me out.
Around 2:30 I thought I was going to go insane. He was watching something on television and I heard “The dog had multiple stab wounds and had to be put down,” just a moment after reading a story online about a man who put his wife's dog in the oven for about 10 minutes at 350 after they'd had an argument. The animal's claws were fused together and it can't walk. The dog also lost an eye. I just couldn't sit in the house anymore.
Everyone in the house has just been pissing me off today. There was a moment when I walked in the door from getting something else for Charlie when Cavan said “The clothes are done, can you take them out of the dryer?” Except they weren't my clothes; they were Charlie's and he was perfectly capable of getting them out.
Then it was some VH1 “Top 100 Songs of the '80s” show that they left it on for what seemed like hours. Every song that came on, one of them would start singing and slyly glance over at me to see if I was irritated. What, am I living with my twelve year-old brothers? Shit.
Cabin fever, anyone?
As much as I don't want to go back to class and work and another seven day stretch of work, I definitely need to get out of the house.