Thursday, March 15, 2012

Pity party day

This isn't intended to be a bitch about my husband post.  I thought about deleting it after writing it, but you know...sometimes the stresses get to me, too, and sometimes I need someone to talk to about them.  And if someone had listened to me in the first place I might not have had to vent here.

Yesterday was packed with all kinds of work. I did two loads of clothes, hung them out on the line, brought them in with the obligatory folding and putting away.  Cleaning the house. Or at least keeping the house as clean as it had been the day before.  Getting the license plates for the Concorde so Zach and I could be mobile again.  Putting said plates on the car, getting the truck out of the way so we could get the car out of the driveway.  And finally, driving very carefully to the gas station  two blocks away and airing up the tires on the Concorde because two of them were nearly flat.

And the damned linkage problem with the transmission that we spent over $400 on six months ago is still a problem.  So the car is sitting in the driveway, waiting for Tom to tighten the cable a bit.  Hopefully it's just because the new cable got stretched a bit, as most new cables do.  Otherwise we're back to two vehicles sitting in the driveway not running.

I had told Tom I thought the problem with the truck might be the alternator based on what he said about the battery and losing the radio and lights dimming and all.  But he didn't believe me and kept looking for other problems.  Zach and I put the charger on the battery yesterday so we could move the truck out of the way in order to put the plates on the car (and get it out of the way so we could get the car out of the driveway.)  After a couple of hours I tried the truck and the it started up just fine but it wouldn't stay running.  It just wouldn't idle at all.  This exact same thing happened to me in Texas when I was stationed there, on my Mustang.  The problem had been the alternator, of which I had gone through 6 because the idiots that put the first one in had crossed the wires, thereby shorting out each subsequent alternator (because everyone who replaced it looked at the alternator to see how to do the wiring.)  Then my engine fuse blew resulting in my car not idling anymore.

But what do I know. I'm just a silly woman who used to be a mechanic on helicopters for bob's sake!

Anyway, I was really depressed after seeing that we still don't have two cars up and running and feeling like I had just wasted $80 on tags for the car.  Tom came home and I tried to talk to him about it but he wasn't feeling well and just tuned me out.  It was a rough night for me.  And a rough morning when he told me I was being relentless about the car so he had to go to bed to escape me.

I'm also bone tired from the chronic fatigue and lack of sleep last night from fretting about the cars and in pain from the fibromyalgia and all the activity I've been doing the past couple of days.  Enough pain I had to take a tramadol during the day, which I try not to do, but didn't mention because I think I sound whiny about it.  But I did try to be supportive and empathetic to Tom's pretty miserable leg pain from crouching to put the sealant on the roof on Sunday.

So I'm not feeling great today either.  I've got books that need to be returned to the library tomorrow so either I go after he gets home at 1 a.m.and put them in the slot or get up early tomorrow morning and get my errands done then.  And since it's pretty hard to sleep before he gets home, getting up early enough is pretty damned difficult. It's not Tom's fault. It really isn't. He only gets one day a week off and last week he had to fix the roof because the need was more urgent.  But it would be nice to hear that it sucks to be stuck at home all the time. It would be nice to feel like someone cares about it. 

I don't know if guys just don't think they need to say this kind of stuff to women or if they are just clueless about it all.  I don't know that you care about my inability to go places and do things if you don't say it.  And telling me that of course I care about your convenience. It's why we have two cars in the first place, doesn't exactly convey your sympathy.

Men!  We don't always need fixes.  Sometimes we need empathy.


No comments: