Feeling annoyed

I got home from ER's shower tonight. It was a good, busy weekend, and I'll post about it later.

I had talked to K at around 5 today. When I asked if he was going to the gym or anything, he told me he planned on staying at the house to get some things done.

"Like what?" I asked.


"Just ... stuff."

So this means that in my last 3 hours of traveling, I had PLENTY of time to consider what "just stuff" could mean:

• Maybe he's mowing the yard, since we have 5 people coming to stay with us this weekend.
• Maybe he's hanging pictures in our room, since he moved the bed for me while I was gone -- something I'd been wanting done for a long time now. (I ruled the picture hanging out, since he doesn't know what I want to go in the frames, and he's smart enough to leave that to me!)
• Maybe he's going to buy flowers. Our I Do, Part 2 anniversary was Sunday, and he texted me AND put something about it in his Facebook status. And since he sent me flowers for Military Spouse Appreciation Day last year but didn't get me flowers this year, and since he didn't get them for me for Valentine's Day (which we boycotted, so I told him not to) OR for our first G Day, maybe he was getting them. I was sure of it, in fact. 

I was only gone 3 days, but I missed K and was really excited to see him. My monthly visitor was here when I left, so I was looking forward to some one-on-one time with K. 

When I got home, though, I found the dining room table cluttered with stacks of shit. I had ordered a couple packages the week before last, and they finally showed up in my absence. There were magazines and junk mail for me to go through. The way K stacks mail, he has to have it aligned in a perfect grid. It's nice and all, I guess, but I hate not being able to see my table under 19 stacks of papers, whether they're aligned or not. 

I immediately started going through everything in an effort to make the table look decent again. 

I went upstairs and saw the bed for the first time. I still can't believe K moved it on his own, but it's clear the boy doesn't quite know what he's doing with decorating. He had the window partially blocked with my night stand. We'll have to fix that soon. 

I studied the room, not sure if I liked the way it was looking now. K wasn't happy about that. I realized he'd vacuumed the floor. I asked if that's what he did after work before picking me up. It was. 

I'm glad he vacuumed. I appreciate it. But at the same time, that's it?! Vacuuming takes no time at all. And if you move furniture around in a room, vacuuming is on the list of things you HAVE to do when you're done. 

The bathroom countertop looked disgusting, and while K is gone, I always clean it, since he's got all of his toiletries with him and it's less stuff to move and clean under. 

The living room wasn't quite put together. It wasn't messy, but it wasn't tidied up. I KNOW vacuuming doesn't take that long upstairs. 

And there definitely weren't any flowers. 

Not to mention the fact that barely a minute after I got in the car, K was telling me about how he'd had an upset stomach the last two days. Nothing like not seeing your husband for 3 days, only to have him tell you about how much he shit while you were gone. 

Or having to throw out a super-ripe banana from the fruit bowl. How did he miss that?

I feel bad for thinking these things. K isn't my maid, so just because I'm gone doesn't mean he has to do all these things. HOWEVER, I've certainly done them constantly for him, so why can't he pick up the slack for once? 

But he vacuumed, and he is helpful. He moved our ginormous, unbelievably heavy bed BY HIMSELF because I've been wanting it done for a few months now.

I hate these internal battles.

I'm tired, and I'd like to be in bed, but I can't relax because I can only think about how much shit I have left to do around the house after being gone for this baby shower. 

Five people will be staying here this weekend, and one is arriving Thursday. That means I have tomorrow to clean everything, since Wednesday is kickball. 

And I realized I hate my job. I don't want to go back to work. All the ridiculous drama and childishness is really not worth it. If I didn't have work, I could clean the house with no problem. Except I wouldn't have my own paycheck.

Bummer. 

Can I go back to Texas again?