Yes. I'm already at the second posting of how it becomes his fault. This time Boyfriend hit me in the face in the middle of the night. How rude can you get? You never hit a woman!
Let me back up a little bit.
Last night (oh yuh huh, this was most recent) Boyfriend hurt me. If he took the garbage out like he was supposed to, this whole thing could have been avoided. Just you wait until you hear this monstrous tale.
In our domestic relationship the chores are divided. He does this, I do that. He cooks, I do laundry. He takes out the garbage, I field the recycling area. (Which is not as fun as it sounds, there have been times where I have literally dug through the garbage to salvage recyclables. You're welcome, Mother Earth.) This is where the problem occurs. Somebody, not mentioning any names or affiliation to me, did not bring out the garbage from the bathroom. Generally this is not a big deal, but we have a little mutt that has been known to rifle through the garbage on occasion searching for treasure. Such an imagination he has. Which is what happened last night. On my way to bed I see a trail of tissue, old makeup, q-tips and whatever other debris from the bathroom garbage that leads across the dinky hallway to our bedroom. Now if it wasn't a mess by Mutt, Boyfriend has some serious sleep-walking issues. I clean it up and put it back in the garbage in the bathroom and clever me, I shut the door so Mutt can't make another mess while we sleep. I grab my water bottle and head to bed.
The thing about bringing a water bottle to bed though is this: at some point your bladder will nudge you awake and say, "Yo, I can make you a helluva lot more uncomfortable, how 'bout you make this easier on both of us and go pee?" I dream a lot, maybe my bladder didn't actually say this, but mostly asleep, I shuffle out of bed and to the bathroom like I do every night. But every night doesn't usually conclude with me being clever and shutting the bathroom door. In the dark and in my haste, I walk right into that wooden monster. I must've been walking with my face sticking way out because that is the only thing I recall getting hit. Ka-pow. Insert various sleepy expletives here. For those of you that knit your brows together on that last sentence, a sleepy expletive is a swear that doesn't exactly round the bases to becoming offensive. Generally it doesn't make sense, much like "ah, dingdong" or "bloody garbage". Because you're sleepy, your gentle curses don't always make sense. Mine at this point is the word "mother". I'd love to explain that one to you, but I can't. Maybe I have issues with my mommy. No, I don't call her mommy, I'm classier than that. I call her Ma. Nonetheless, after my outburst to myself about liquid I go back to bed. Somehow the knock to the face rendered me incapable of remembering to actually enter the washroom. I climb back in bed, roll onto my side and close my eyes. Le damn. I still have not emptied the tank. Now I'm upset for a few reasons: 1) My face hurts, 2) I still have to pee and there's nobody to do it for me, and 3) Boyfriend is sleeping soundly, unaware as to the physical pain and mental anguish he has caused me this eve. Bad Boyfriend.
I'm only left with one rational option here (I suppose rational may differ depending on who you talk to). I reach my hand out, swiftly whack Boyfriend on the thigh, and dive back down to my pillow to pretend to be asleep. I hear him stir, wake briefly, and eventually roll over, back into slumber. I know, don't look at the screen like that with judgement, but it did make me feel better. Sorry, Boyfriend. It wasn't the nicest thing to do. But it wasn't the meanest thing I could have done either. Think about that.
The good news here is that I learned that I have the capacity to take out the garbage. Even if it's not my job. And to be fair I suffered enough. I had to hold it for awhile before Boyfriend was sleeping soundly again and I could sneak out of bed without being discovered for swatting out of anger. Though, in hindsight, he reads this blog so I've outed myself for that malicious deed all on my own... Boyfriend, pretend you didn't read this... you're gorgeous by the way. If you only emptied the garbage the whole thing could've been avoided. Just sayin'.
Time for tea,
K
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