in which Kitteh shrinks away oodles of fluff

Ramblings

Here is my update.

I was so pissed last night I could not see straight. I didn’t feel that way when I was posting, or when I left work even. I really didn’t even consciously feel that way at first when I got home. But I was. I was so pissed and so repressed about it that I overate at dinner (not extra carbs, just more protein than I needed) and I had two glasses of wine and a bagel with cottage cheese on top and was contemplating having even more food, when DH wandered upstairs to the main floor from his cave and we began to chat about random things and I was just about YELLING about them (not at him, at the idjits in the stories) and at first I thought that was because, well, they were idjits. 🙂 Then I noticed that Every.Single.Story involved ijits, which starts to make me wonder if I am having a little mood issue. 🙂 Apologized to DH for sounding so frakkin intense, and we went up to bed. But after we finally got to bed, we had a conversation that sounded a lot like this:

Me: Do you ever get mad or frustrated that you are a Type I? (DH is a Type 1 diabetic, developed at age 35, up until which point he was a total needlephobe, so yeah. Very “unfair” feeling.)

He: Nope.

Me: Well, you are a better person than me. Why not?

He: there’s no point.

Me: Well, but with all due respect, you get frustrated about other things when there is no “point” to it…

He: Yes, well, here there is one choice. Deal with it, or die.

Me: Oh. [long silence.] I think I am really pissed right now.

He: I can tell. [smiles]

Me: [ignoring smile, because I am still pissed.] I’m pissed because I did my BF for this contest with J. (etc. etc.) and even though I KNEW it was bad, it still pisses me off to see the numbers. I am pissed that this happened to me and I don’t feel like it is my fault, you know?

He: Yeah. But you either deal with it, or die.

Me: [suppressing urge to tell him to stuff it, so long silence for  bit.] I’m also pissed with me.

He: Why?

Me: Because I got this way and it has been 2. 5+ years since the bedrest and I have not done anything about it.

He: But you are doing something about it now.

Me: Do you really believe I can do this?

He: Yes.

Me: Why? You understand that goes against common sense, since I have never managed to do it before?

He: You are really good at doing whatever you set your mind to, and you really want it.

Me: You think I didn’t want it before?

He: Not as bad, no.

Me: [long silence] You think I want it enough this time?

He: Yes. Can I go to sleep now?

Me: Yes. But you must kick my ass out of bed in the morning.

He: It’s a deal. What time?

And, because he is the best partner in the world, he did. Even though when he said “OK, time to get up” I said “NO WAY” with my face buried in the pillow. He turned on the lights, turned off the white noise air purifier, and handed me my phone, knowing full well I would not be able to resist nosing around to see what emails came during the night. And he got me up.

So today I got up at 6:30, got downstairs to the main within 10, folded a load of sheets and put a load of towels into dry (Potty Training Bootcamp detritis), loaded my wine glass into the dishwasher and started it, went down to the basement and started the clean up. (Aside: That’s where the exercise stuff is, but it is still half packed and jumbled from The Great Spill when my daughter turned on her bathroom sink to give kitty a drink and walked away. There is no way to get to the weight bench and Pilates machine without at least shifting stuff, and no way I am going to avoid dealing with it and have it stare at me while we lift. So Job 1 on “workout with DH in basement in morning” is clear out basement and restore order. Then decorate – we had put in new flooring and had the place painted literally THE WEEKEND I found out I was preggers with No. 2. Then 14 weeks of exhaustion, followed by bedrest at 14w6d, followed by… well, you know from there. I have all kinds of cool things ready to frame and some ready to hang that never got put up!) Managed to get rid of four boxes and had DH put a 5th upstairs for sorting after bedtime tonight.

Then, I played with Boy while DH got ready and left (he had an early meeting), chatted with Massshel a few, got dressed, UNloaded dishwasher, started chicken for tonight’s dinner, folded the load of towels and put them away, and came to work. (I know you guys are fascinated. Apparently I have no filter, the details are just gushing out of me.) Worked till 12:15, went across the street and did 20 minutes on the stairmaster. Came back to work and wrote this post.

I am really the hell sick of trying to carry more than 200 lbs of fat around with less than 100 lbs of muscle. I am going to be acquiring some more. Stay tuned.

 

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