Me: [patiently waiting for my grilled cheese sandwich] Can you cut it into triangles?

Eddie: You’ll get it whatever way I want to give it to you.

Me: Noooo! I’m gonna tell Mom you won’t cut it into triangles!

Eddie: And I’m gonna tell her you won’t let me do you up the ass. Now take your sandwich.

Somehow I don’t think that this weekend is going to be very good here at home.

I’m battling a cough that tends to show up just as we get comfortable in bed or on the couch or, even worse, in the middle of the night. The night before last, Eddie went out and slept on the couch because I wouldn’t stop, and so last night I went out and slept in the living room at the first sign of coughing. He gets annoyed about this (or so I’m made to feel anyway). I feel like I’m fucked either way, because regardless of which one of us sleeps out in the living room, one of us is going to be pissed off; he’s pissed because I can’t just turn the coughing off and nothing helps it, I’m pissed because I don’t feel like he should have to sleep on the couch because of my problems, not to mention the fact that he’s a foot taller than me and it isn’t entirely comfortable out here.

Eddie doesn’t feel good today, which means that he’s snarky at me for no good reason whatsoever. I’m off my meds and trying to adjust to actually responding rationally to him being bitchy towards me, thus I snark right back at him (even if I think I had every right to do so). I’m not tired, and he is, so I’m essentially alone while he sleeps, having to keep quiet so as not to wake him up out here.

We’re fighting over the iPod because I have maybe 15 CDs that I really like compared to his 300 or so in the cases, and he doesn’t seem to like anything that I want to put on it, but I lost 3gb of MP3s during the move last summer when my external drive died, so none of my music is really getting put on it unless I want to download all of my stuff all over again and import it all over again. And yet I’m told, “Can you at least put some music on it that I like too?” I’m sorry, but aside from experimenting with importing some FFXI MP3s (which I deleted afterward), it’s all stuff he likes, because it’s all his CDs that I’m importing. His Tenacious D, his Tragically Hip anthology, his Spice Girls, Bif Naked and Brittany Spears… there’s maybe 2-3 songs on each CD that I actually like enough to listen to.

And this is all petty shit, I realize, but it’s my petty shit, and if I want to sulk about it, then I will.

Back to work.

3 weeks left.

I don’t think there’s been a day recently when I haven’t wanted to just be at home curled under the blankets on the couch (or mindlessly killing things on FFXI) more than today. It’s just one of those awful days. It’s rainy, the sky is gray, and there’s just an all-around depressing feeling to the air.

Eddie’s at home cleaning. I can’t see what’s going on from here (I’ve yet to point the webcams links to the new domain), but he’s working on cleaning out the 2nd bedroom so we can eventually put his desk and computer in there, and I’ve got the wild idea that I want an elliptical trainer now, so that would be in there as well. Apparently he has the full sized couch in the living room now, but won’t show me pictures.

The fact that he’s at home cleaning out the house while I’m sitting here getting paid to surf makes me feel like a total heel. A lot of the stuff in that room is mine and is still boxed from 2 moves ago. That’s right - there’s stuff in boxes in there that was packed up when I moved out of my mother’s house in Wickford, still somewhat packed since 1998. I’m a packrat and a hoarder and a procrastinator. I’ll decide to clear out whatever is in the boxes and put it off. The crap multiplies.

So yeah, I’m annoyed at my laziness and packrattedness and hoardination behavior. Not to mention the fact that this month has been awful in terms of sales. I’ve sold 2 lines this month and nothing else, with the exception of a handful of prepaid cards. Last month wasn’t much different. February sucked because between vacation and schedule changing I was out more than I was in. The store is empty 90% of the time, and I can’t sell to people who aren’t here. I’m not going to be here much longer. *sigh*

I’m sure that if I were to get laid off/fired/terminated/downsized/whatever I could find something to do. Employment-wise I could brush up on the resume skills, maybe even pay someone to actually do a good one for me. I could also take some time to figure out exactly what I’d like to do with myself, because I’d really like to go back to school, and I’d also like to do something that I enjoy doing instead of something that pays our bills.

Yes, I’m not in a great mood, but since I haven’t killed any of the kids screaming here at work, it can’t be all that bad yet.

They’re in the vase, dead.
Their scent lingers like your faded kiss,
And the sight of them kills me.

But I can’t throw them out.
They mean too much to me now.
There’s too much to remember about us,
And they’re the last tangible thing from you
Besides the ring from Christmas.

There they sit, dead, withered on the top shelf
Because they won’t fit on the lower ones.
The ring is still on my finger, the purple stone
Still shines. The ring itself is a size too big and is
Turned around, facing my palm half the time
And the world the rest.

Still, I can’t get rid of either.
I’ll lay in bed and look at the roses and think of the night
That you gave them to me;
Of the happier times we had under the stars and streetlights,
And I like the sparkle of the ring.

Memories don’t help heal the soul,
Don’t heal the heart, can’t close off the past.
They fade with time, fortunately,
And all that I’ll have to remind me is the scent of the roses.

What do I do with the roses now?