Ripping and Ranting

Earlier, I was going to jump head first into this post and shred just about every person and subject I wrote about. But then I decided to do a little FB stalking and have since cooled off. I've been experiencing some rage... - - Oh, actually the rage is back. I've been in here laying on an ice pack for the last half hour, AND JOE HAS BEEN IN THE BATHROOM THE WHOLE TIME. But before he went in, he let both dogs out, and when I went to return my ice pack to the freezer just now, I caught the dogs chasing each other outside at full speed. Dude, Dex really isn't even supposed to go out at all without a leash on BECAUSE HE ALMOST NEEDED ORTHOPEDIC SURGERY THIS WEEK. I am so fucking mad right now.

When I angrily questioned him through the bathroom door, Joe claimed he needed to have a time out "away from other people," so he went to the bathroom. Dick, I'm the only other person here, so I know who you were getting away from. This all stems from the car ride home from post. I rode with Joe to go sign back in from his leave because he wanted to show me their new building. Riding in the car is painful right now anyway, and Joe zipping around folks in rush hour traffic didn't help. THEN, we got on the subject of why I hate it when he plays his video games and is having fun. Which is what I was originally going to write about. So here goes.

I'll admit it; I hate that Joe is so dependent on video games and loves them so much. When I met him, he played World of Warcraft, and I hated that game too. Due to time constraints with joining the Army, he had to quit WOW, and now relies on playing his XBOX 360 any chance he gets. And I hate it. I'm not sure exactly why, but I can venture a few guesses. In no particular order, first, there is the issue of the Army. I compete with the Army for my husband's time, and the Army always wins. So then, when he's home, and I have to compete with the goddamn video games, I get really damn frustrated. He's mad that he's only gotten the hour or two in the mornings before I get up to play during leave. Well, what the fuck man? How much is enough? Second, when I stroll into the room to find him glazed over, pouring over every detail of his stupid game that has no bearing on his real life, I think of all the shit I've asked him to do that still hasn't gotten done. One of these things would be an air filter for my car. I have been asking Joe to replace it for a year now, and I have made a point of not replacing it myself, nor letting the oil change guys replace it. I guess those are really the two biggest reasons, and really the only two I can think of right now. That said, I don't want Joe to quit playing altogether. I know he needs a break too, but I just think that if you're a grown ass man, you might should act like it.

This may seem strange to some of you, but I've thought about my dad a lot lately and how I wish Joe could be more like him in some ways. My dad works a lot at his job and has for over thirty years now. He puts in a lot of hours, though perhaps not quite as much as Joe. Still, when he's home he loves to be outside and work in the yard. He's not afraid to do a little work inside either. The man can clean. He can do dishes, vacuum, laundry, and let me tell you he is the master at folding. He folded some of my clothes when I was staying with them, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out who had done it until he finally told me it was him. I was in awe. Where my dad is also thoughtful is with the vehicles. When I'm home he checks my car without me asking - checks the fluid, etc, and tops off what needs it. Where these things are first nature for my dad, the man that I grew up with, they are foreign to my dear husband.

Maybe this will never change. Sometimes I think Joe's got it, but then ultimately he leaves again and forgets what life is like here because I take care of it. Plus, he just wants to relax when he has the time. But where does that leave me? Am I always going to be the primary and the back up? And making turkey sandwiches for me and running a few errands while my back is out doesn't count. I'm sorry, but it doesn't. Gah.