November 17, 2002
Yesterday's visit wasn't too bad.. the Child behaved herself tolerably well and the whole thing only lasted two hours.
But I feel the need to whine yet again today.
There's still the wedding to get through.
In fact the toughest part might be to get TO it.
It's a 45 minute drive in good weather, and the weather is not good.
It snowed; now it's sleeting; the forecast is for more snow all evening and night, between six inches and a foot in total.
For Montreal this isn't that big of a deal, really, but considering my feelings about this event, it gives me one more reason to resent being dragged out and forced to endure weather and dangerous roads as well as a room full of relative strangers. (Pun, as usual, intended.)
If I consider the pros and cons of going I come up with this:
Pros: None. Not even food - I have to be extremely careful because of my food allergies.
Cons: waste of time, waste of energy, chance of accident.
Pros: Get to stay home and warm.
Cons: Piss off Housemate. (He's already pissed off);
alienate the Matriarch. (She doesn't talk to me as it is.)
Seems like a no-brainer to me, yet unless things really worsen I'll go, and try to smile.
This morning when I came into the kitchen, there was a small sample packet of dog food on the table. It came with the morning paper.
We don't have a dog.
Me, to the Housemate: Oh, you can give it to Brother-In-Law.
(BIL has a teensy little powder-puff/floor mop type dog.)
Housemate, not taking his eyes off the newspaper: Malcolm (the dog) died.
Me: OH! What happened?
HM: He was old and stopped eating and had pain and the vet recommended putting him to sleep.
Me: Awwww, when did you find out?
HM: Monday or Tuesday.
Me: Why didn't you tell me?
HM: Whenever I try to talk to you, you walk away so I didn't bother.
That only happens when he gets going on his boring interminable golf stories.
I do not care about his golf stories.
I do not HAVE to care about his golf stories because this is the man who, when we were dating and I came home from my first day of graduate school, interrupted my stories to reminisce about his own first days of class. Even then I had heard these stories many times.
This is the man who often forgot to ask how my prenatal doctor's appointments went. (Never mind accompany me - he'd have to skip work for that!)
He has never shown the slightest interest in anything I do, only in the household tasks I don't do.
Whatever interests me is to be belittled and made a joke of.
And it's always been like that.
(For now, I won't get into why I married him or why I stayed with him - that would fill too many psychology books.)
So I'm not good enough to share the demise of BIL's dog with.
Why do I have to go to this stupid wedding, then?
Graphics courtesy of