Moving sucks the big nasty.

Hello Stephen,

How many times have you moved in your life?  I mean, other than being on the road forever, how many times have you moved every item in your house, to another state, or town?  Six?  Maybe 8?  Let me guess, you've also never had to carry heavy boxes or furniture yourself, when you can afford to hire movers, right?  Well, over the past 15 years, I have moved approximately 12 times, by myself, no movers, nobody to help, just me.  On average, that's about once every year or so.  And I'm pretty good at it, got it right down to a science really, but it still doesn't change the fact that it sucks.  This time is no different.  I have been having a sucky-shitty-through-the-strawy-kind-of-day. Why is that, you ask?

Because if Pete manages to make it through this move without being maimed, beaten to a bloody pulp, or mutilated in some way, it will be a friggin' miracle.  Neither one of us have the most patience for stuff like this, so we tend to do things in different ways, and frankly, my way always seems to be "wrong," in his opinion. "Is that enough boxes out of your way upstairs now?" he just said to me, as he huffed and puffed with a dolly full of boxes that envelope my books. SARCASTIC SMART ASS.  That's the kind of thing that drives me bonkers.  I don't need nasty snide sarcasm, thanks.  I'm just as tired and my bones and muscles are just as sore as his.  I've been working just as hard as he has, and yet, he's being a total piss-head towards me every time I offer to help him---"just get the hell out of the way," or, "You asked me to do this, and now you act like I can't handle it by myself." GRRRRRR.

The main thing he's been doing all day is packing up HIS office, HIS books, HIS dvd's, HIS cd's, HIS stuff.  He then apparently thinks that I will magically pack up everything else by myself and move it down to the garage.  Well, sorry, I am not able to do all that by myself.  I wish I could, but then why would I even bother to get married, if I just wanted to do everything all by myself like I always used to?

He stayed home from work today, at my request, (silly me)---I actually asked him to stay home tomorrow but he chose today instead, which was annoying because I had made my plans already for today.  But, okay, fine, I can adjust, I'm flexible.  But then as the day progressed, I kept snarling, gritting my teeth, and flipping him off behind his back, wishing he would just go the hell to work and get out of my face. So, I need to ask you a favor, Stevie, would you please remind me of this situation the next time I say to you, "Gee I wish Pete would take a day off to help me..." because if I forget how annoyed he's made me feel all day, I'll need a swift kick in the pants to remind me about it from someone I trust. Thanks.

I had planned, for instance, to load up the car (because he prefers to take the minivan to work, it "fits him better," yet it also hinders MY progress is MOVING THINGS TO THE NEW HOUSE, but okay, whatever, it's all about him, and the whole world revolves around him, so fuck it)...so I had planned to load up the car with as much fragile stuff and larger items like wall mirrors and such, to take to the new house around noon or so, or afternoon (before rush hour).  However, with his "help" all day, we didn't get on the road until 3:30 p.m.-----smack dab in the middle of rush hour clusterfuckery----so it took forever to get there, and then he got pissy with me, because my mom had come along but was sitting in a chair crocheting while we unloaded stuff.  "Why the hell did she even come with us?" he said, "If she's not going to bother helping unload stuff?"  That royally pissed ME off, so I said to him, just as pissy right back, "I didn't ASK her to help unload anything, and guess what, she can't read your mind either. If you WANT me to ASK her to help, I will do so, but YOU could just as easily ASK her, and stop being such a pissy-assed putz."

I cannot STAND the passive-aggressive bullshit behavior that he has inherited from his pain in the ass mother.  That, and the lack of ability to articulate his feelings and communicate, are his two biggest flaws.  I mean, hey, I married him for better or worse, I know this, but at the same time, HE SHOULD STILL BE ABLE TO LEARN AND GROW, NOT JUST STAGNATE in the same repeated dysfunction on a daily basis all of his life.

The only thing that I had asked my mom to do when we got there was try out the central vacuum and clean the carpet in her bedroom down in the basement, so that we can set up her bed and stuff.  She did that, and then sat down.  She has two messed up knees, and cannot lift stuff without a lot of pain.  That's why she's on DISABILITY.  Oh, and that was part of my plan for the day too, taking her to find a mattress and box spring, but of course, THAT wasn't in Pete's plans at all, so we didn't.  How dare we "waste our time" shopping for things like that when we had to pack pack pack? It was an inconvenience to HIM for my mother to buy herself a mattress and boxed spring.  This is the kind of thing that will eventually lead to our divorce, if he keeps it up.

So, the stress and the friction of this move is starting to get to me, and I'm about ready to say, "Have fun living in YOUR house, I'm all packed and ready to go elsewhere."

.............thanks for letting me vent.  I have nobody to talk to about anything.  It helps me to write it out.

Bye for now.

Love, Rebecca