More Janis, Less Frank
(The title refers to my current mood and subsequent response to Ben's "shuffle" feature on Musicmatch Jukebox--less Frank Black, more Janis Joplin. Thank the Goddess for the "next track" button.)
Mini-Break, Day 1 - Wednesday
The day started wierd, for lack of a better word. I was in a wierd mood. We had a nice evening last night, in spite of the fact my friend I was supposed to meet for drinks after work blew me off AGAIN. (This is becoming routine and has happened every time we've been scheduled to meet up for the past several months. I understand we're over 30 and the emphasis is now less on friends and more on immediate family, but Jesus--if you make plans, fucking keep them.) He finished up his work earlier than anticipated and WE went for drinks. I probably had more fun with him, anyway, and we enjoyed a lovely Thai dinner. Then we went home and continued drinking and a comment about a commercial turned into a "your college experience was more cakewalk than my college experience" argument.
All I really wanted was for him to admit he had it pretty damned easy because not only did his parents foot the bill for his tuition, they also coughed up for his room and board and spending money. Yes, he worked to fulfill requirements for his degree, and yes, it was probably the equivalent of a full-time job in conjunction with a courseload, but I don't see how that can compare to working a 40+-hour per week job to pay a mortgage, utilities, credit card bills, groceries, ad nauseum while carrying 16 hours a semester--even if it was for a shitty liberal arts degree. And no, I got no help whatsoever from my parents. None. Nada. As it was, I had to wait until I was over 23 to go back to college ("back" from one semester during which time I realized living with my family was no longer an option) because any student loan applicant under age 23 and/or unmarried must include their parents' income on their loan application, regardless of the fact said parents have not provided financial support to said applicant since shortly after said applicant's 16th birthday. I am now 33 years old, up to my ass in student loan debt I hope to continue forebearing until my son goes to kindergarten in another year and the cost of his care while I'm working drops by almost $500 a month, and pretty much maxed out in my earning potential in my "field," which has nothing to do with my degree (mostly because my degree has nothing to do with much of anything).
Long story short--yes, I appreciate the work you did in school was challenging, but I somehow don't feel it comes close to the flaming hurdles I had to jump through to get my crappy degree from a substandard state institution. And I'd like you to acknowledge that.
But he didn't, and I think he remained pissed about it even after we agreed to bygones and shut up. That, coupled with the fact I had very strange and disturbing dreams all night (none that I remember and caused, I believe, by the fact my allergies are killing me and I can't breathe at night) and kept waking up with my back screaming "YOU'RE OLD" left me in somewhat sour spirits when I woke up this morning.
I got over it relatively quickly, though, because today is DAY ONE of our pseudo-vacation. Not much of a vacation, really--we're just not going to work.
We had "lunch" (more like breakfast) at a barbecue joint he claimed is award-winning (and yes, they have the ribbons and trophies prominently displayed to prove it) but I wasn't particularly impressed with. I mean, all barbecue is good, but this was no Bryant's.
We came home and did what we do best--laid on the couch--until I had to leave for a 1:00 appointment with Bob's therapist for the parent instruction on her new therapy (Parent Child Interaction Training). I wasn't impressed. It seems pretty damned hokey, and not to blow my own horn, but I already implement most of the "skills" in my every day interactions with Bob. Making me wonder why I need scripted dialogue to improve my relationship with him. I can certainly see where DB would benefit (and may be already) from this, but it seems like a waste of my time and money. At any rate, I listened, and I agreed to come back, but I'm still not completely sold on the fact I need it.
Came home and lounged a little more, then we went to the grocery store for tonight's feed, then back home, where I decided to take on our filthy bathroom, our burnt-out bulbs in the basement, and a couple loads of laundry. Ben, never one to be left out, cleaned the kitchen, bless his pea-pickin' heart. After emptying all the trash, I decided the floors and dusting could wait for another day. The tub is clean, that's good enough for now. Doesn't sound like much of a vacation, does it? Au contraire--cleaning makes me giddy. I'm wierd that way.
I tried to call Bob twice tonight, to no avail. I haven't talked to him since I caught him on Monday while DB was out of the house. Go figure.
Tonight, I imagine we'll gorge ourselves on barbecued pork (country-style "ribs"--the best) and some drinks, stay up late watching bad tv, then tomorrow the plan is to lay by the pool all day. Unless it rains, in which case...who knows? Maybe I'll introduce Ben to yoga.
Mini-Break, Day 1 - Wednesday
The day started wierd, for lack of a better word. I was in a wierd mood. We had a nice evening last night, in spite of the fact my friend I was supposed to meet for drinks after work blew me off AGAIN. (This is becoming routine and has happened every time we've been scheduled to meet up for the past several months. I understand we're over 30 and the emphasis is now less on friends and more on immediate family, but Jesus--if you make plans, fucking keep them.) He finished up his work earlier than anticipated and WE went for drinks. I probably had more fun with him, anyway, and we enjoyed a lovely Thai dinner. Then we went home and continued drinking and a comment about a commercial turned into a "your college experience was more cakewalk than my college experience" argument.
All I really wanted was for him to admit he had it pretty damned easy because not only did his parents foot the bill for his tuition, they also coughed up for his room and board and spending money. Yes, he worked to fulfill requirements for his degree, and yes, it was probably the equivalent of a full-time job in conjunction with a courseload, but I don't see how that can compare to working a 40+-hour per week job to pay a mortgage, utilities, credit card bills, groceries, ad nauseum while carrying 16 hours a semester--even if it was for a shitty liberal arts degree. And no, I got no help whatsoever from my parents. None. Nada. As it was, I had to wait until I was over 23 to go back to college ("back" from one semester during which time I realized living with my family was no longer an option) because any student loan applicant under age 23 and/or unmarried must include their parents' income on their loan application, regardless of the fact said parents have not provided financial support to said applicant since shortly after said applicant's 16th birthday. I am now 33 years old, up to my ass in student loan debt I hope to continue forebearing until my son goes to kindergarten in another year and the cost of his care while I'm working drops by almost $500 a month, and pretty much maxed out in my earning potential in my "field," which has nothing to do with my degree (mostly because my degree has nothing to do with much of anything).
Long story short--yes, I appreciate the work you did in school was challenging, but I somehow don't feel it comes close to the flaming hurdles I had to jump through to get my crappy degree from a substandard state institution. And I'd like you to acknowledge that.
But he didn't, and I think he remained pissed about it even after we agreed to bygones and shut up. That, coupled with the fact I had very strange and disturbing dreams all night (none that I remember and caused, I believe, by the fact my allergies are killing me and I can't breathe at night) and kept waking up with my back screaming "YOU'RE OLD" left me in somewhat sour spirits when I woke up this morning.
I got over it relatively quickly, though, because today is DAY ONE of our pseudo-vacation. Not much of a vacation, really--we're just not going to work.
We had "lunch" (more like breakfast) at a barbecue joint he claimed is award-winning (and yes, they have the ribbons and trophies prominently displayed to prove it) but I wasn't particularly impressed with. I mean, all barbecue is good, but this was no Bryant's.
We came home and did what we do best--laid on the couch--until I had to leave for a 1:00 appointment with Bob's therapist for the parent instruction on her new therapy (Parent Child Interaction Training). I wasn't impressed. It seems pretty damned hokey, and not to blow my own horn, but I already implement most of the "skills" in my every day interactions with Bob. Making me wonder why I need scripted dialogue to improve my relationship with him. I can certainly see where DB would benefit (and may be already) from this, but it seems like a waste of my time and money. At any rate, I listened, and I agreed to come back, but I'm still not completely sold on the fact I need it.
Came home and lounged a little more, then we went to the grocery store for tonight's feed, then back home, where I decided to take on our filthy bathroom, our burnt-out bulbs in the basement, and a couple loads of laundry. Ben, never one to be left out, cleaned the kitchen, bless his pea-pickin' heart. After emptying all the trash, I decided the floors and dusting could wait for another day. The tub is clean, that's good enough for now. Doesn't sound like much of a vacation, does it? Au contraire--cleaning makes me giddy. I'm wierd that way.
I tried to call Bob twice tonight, to no avail. I haven't talked to him since I caught him on Monday while DB was out of the house. Go figure.
Tonight, I imagine we'll gorge ourselves on barbecued pork (country-style "ribs"--the best) and some drinks, stay up late watching bad tv, then tomorrow the plan is to lay by the pool all day. Unless it rains, in which case...who knows? Maybe I'll introduce Ben to yoga.
posted by Mitzi Green at 7:33 PM
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