On my birthday, we went to the museum. It’s a beautiful museum, well designed and executed, and they were having a special event involving music and costumes.
My family indulged me extensively. We had lunch in the restaurant there and strolled through all the exhibits, then along the art walk.
We came home and played the new Discworld game.
Yesterday #2 daughter and #1 son and I went to the local bakery and scarfed croissants with ham and cheese, doughnuts, and various drinks. I went and taught my class, and then #2 daughter and I had a wholesome lunch (salmon, roasted sweet potatoes, fresh fruit) and she headed off.
I plunged back into work, finishing up at 9:00 last night, having skipped rehearsal again.
In the midst of all that I had a quarrel with my husband.
I realize that lots of people have quarrels with their spouses all the time. My husband and I rarely quarrel. But, like many married couples, we only have one argument in our repertoire, so it’s both upsetting and boring.
I’m starting the day feeling disgruntled.
Feeling gruntled doesn’t actually sound much better than feeling disgruntled, does it?
I’m not so much disgruntled about my husband, because I realize that his speech about how he’s working himself to death and has nothing to show for it and it’s all my fault is a set piece. My part of the argument is that he has made his own decisions, and in fact has rarely paid any attention at all to what I think he should do, so his disgruntlement is his own fault. Indeed, he has no problems, and I keep him in comfort and take care of everything for him.
I’m sure that we are both right, and both wrong. Neither of us ever convinces the other, and both of us end up feeling equally unappreciated. Then we get over it. Since there is nothing at all that either of us can (or perhaps will) do to change whatever it is that leads to this quarrel, it is pointless and unimportant.
It’s just that the unpleasantness of having a quarrel becomes the backdrop to the day, which is already filled with the sensation of being barely able to keep up.
The New Girl starts tomorrow. That really ought to help.
I encountered a book this morning in the course of getting the social media set up that contains these lines:
Did I keep regular hours? I sure did. If I was awake, I worked.
I took off most of the weekend, and have in fact steadily been getting better about taking off weekends and even the occasional evening. I am going to be even better about that. I’m going to take time to get to the gym, and to work on projects unrelated to work, and to look after my home and myself.
Will this make my husband feel less as though he works like a dog and has nothing to show for it? I don’t know. I don’t feel that we have nothing to show for our hard work. Getting our kids safely grown up and through college has to be worth something, right? A comfortable home, reliable cars, and enough money for all our needs should count as something.
Those things are probably worth an occasional disgruntled day, even.