Fuck My Life

I am responsible for a good many things I have no control over.

I am the person in the relationship that must point to the gorilla in the room and say, "look a gorilla."

I am sick of denial.  I am sick of putting band-aids on the problem.

I am sick of being yelled at for pointing out that the present state of affairs has failed.

Yesterday was being yelled at for attempting to get her car fixed.  She obviously hit a pot hole or similar obstruction and ruined a tire.  Gods forbid that she alter her schedule to accommodate the repair, so I got to get no sleep and take the car to the shop.  Me being grumpy about it made me take no shit about it.  She actually accused my tightening the accessory belts as causing the pull to the right and the vibration.  No, that is impossible.

I stand vindicated from looking at the inside of the damaged tire.  Not that she will admit that it was her failure to avoid road hazards caused the problem.  She won't even cop to being unable to avoid the hit, and sometimes you cannot.

Except I've seen how she drives.  I've been in the car when she's nailed things in the road that she didn't even seem to notice.

Her car is now fixed, and that was yesterday.

Today the elephant in the room is The Boy and his bed wetting.

He literally doesn't bother to get up and go to the toilet.  He just lets go wherever he's at.

She's been talking about buying a vinyl coated ACLF style bed for the boy for about two months.  Talk talk talk.  My only reservation about this is the cost and will he simply destroy it.

We've tried all the incontinence products you can imagine.  He removes the pads, covers and sheets so that he can sleep, and piss, on the bare mattress.  His removing often tears the waterproof cover to shreds.  I could put the mattress baggy back on the bed, but that's sealing the thing in his juices to ferment.

The house smells like an outhouse.

It's been getting worse for several weeks.

Today the stench woke me from a deep sleep, the first sleep I've managed to get in over 48 hours.  So I say that I am tossing the bed and getting him a cot.  We need to get him something that we can wash.  You can't wash a mattress that's soaked through the box springs and is dripping to the floor.

Ka FUCKING boom.

Somehow it's MY fault that HE cannot get up and go to the bathroom.  It is my fault that he rips up the protective covers.

I've been accused of only doing something because NOW it affects me and that it's been bothering her for months.  Well, then why didn't YOU do something about it?

I've been forbidden to buy a cot because He and She "don't deserve comfortable beds."

Well, Dear, we don't sleep together because I can't sleep through your snoring.  We had a bed I could sleep in in the living room that was ruined because you're too fat for it.

It was your decision to have my computer in the bedroom and to essentially exile me from the living room by not giving me even an inch out there I can call mine.  I got no choice in television because you'd say, "go watch your show in the bedroom."  The recliner was supposed to be my chair.  You ruined yours and then took over the recliner.  Now it's not comfortable for me to sit in because your weight killed it.  You can't fathom why I'm increasingly territorial about the spaces that I still have?

I am sick of solutions that don't solve anything.  Your methods don't work and I am sick of being yelled at for not emulating them.

It is not as if he will not stay dry if he wants to.  When your mom was down and the entire time he was visiting grandma, he stayed dry.  The month since you've returned has been worse for wetting than the previous year.  Yet I am supposed to do what?  The same things that had been not working for the past year?  He's on his third bed in a year!  We can't afford to keep buying things to be ruined.

Pointing it out doesn't make it my fault.