Grounded

I’m in trouble and MC is in big trouble.  We’re both grounded but he’s more grounded than I am.  It’s only fair.

This week was exceptionally difficult for me in terms of getting myself motivated to show up for all of my appointments.  Tuesday was very busy and I paid in full on Wednesday for overdoing it.  Nothing was working right Wednesday morning.  My body wouldn’t move, my vocal cords wouldn’t form sounds and the cobwebs in my head were so thick I thought I might need a super-powered shop vac to knock them loose.  I was three hours late to dialysis, but I did eventually make it there.  Now that I’m amid a little upper respiratory snotfest, it all makes sense, this lack of energy and motivation.  The bugs were brewing, using up all of my precious energy.

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As of writing this, it’s six days until Harpy flies in screeching, with claws sharpened.  I’ve made a very noble effort to abstain from cleaning for multiple reasons.  1) It’s not my mess, I’m adult enough to pick up after myself and 2) Sick on top of sick could very well lead to major badness, should I let my cleaning OCD get out of control.  I’m actually tossing around the idea of taking Dr. Cardio up on his recommendation to readmit me.  I hate hospitals but I believe I hate Harpy even more.  If I’m stupid this weekend, it won’t be a recommendation, it will be an order.

Stupid things…ah, I’m skilled at doing stupid things.  You know what I said about fighting with myself just to show up for my appointments?  Today, my inner brat won.  I called bright and early to cancel my neuro appointment because I’ve decided the only thing neurologists are good for is diagnosing you with something they can’t effectively treat or fix.  It’s pointless to see them for follow-up if you ask me.  Bad Kara.  Then I decided since I was home for the day, I may as well start picking up the crap that’s strewn all over the sleepy-level of the house.  I filled up two trash bags with stuff I consider to be trash, tossed empty boxes down the stairs, did four loads of laundry and tried to decide where I’m sleeping for the eleven days my bitch mother-in-law is here.

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This brings me to MC and his trail of crap he left all over the house.  As I was trying to find places to put things, it occurred to me that all of the places to put things are already full of his stuff.  Like, floor to ceiling stacked, and don’t try to open the door or you’ll be crushed by an avalanche of JUNK.  Oh my god.  Why?!  Why does he have so much stuff?!  Ten of fucking everything!  Three sets of golf clubs (he doesn’t golf), two compound bows (that he doesn’t use), five bicycles, two motorcycles, dozens of bookshelf speakers, stereo receivers, several large RC cars and trucks, enough paintball gear for a group of four stupid men, the skeletons and guts of every single computer he has built in the past ten years, three televisions, four skateboards, two extra sets of wheels and bearing for each of them, 50 pairs of shoes, boxes saved for all of the above, clothes, clothes, and more clothes.  So many clothes and nowhere to put them.  I’ve been living out of a duffel bag since he came home from Korea because the closets are FULL OF HIS SHIT.  Yeah, he’s totally grounded.

I’m giving myself a heart attack just thinking about it.  Simmah down, meow.

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8 thoughts on “Grounded

  1. Whats with the compound bows?? Mine has one … and the accessories … and the big old box to put it all in. Has he used it? Once. For anything important? Nope.
    However, I think MC may win with all the rest of the crap … partner has shit for miles, but not quite as much as yours! My clothes fit neatly into one set of drawers; with extra space.

    What gives? You have my sympathies!!

    Harpie?? Ewww … Hospital sounds better …

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Get him to sell some shit and make some space for his sick wife. I emptied a room that was so full we couldn’t open the door recently, and it was cathartic as fuck. I didn’t sell any of it because I’m not organised enough, but getting rid of 20 sacks of clothes to Cancer Research felt goood.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. MC needs to do his own laundry, and yours!! Really? You did laundry? I’m ashamed of him.
    Harpy or hospital? That’s a hard decision.
    Take care of the snot fest my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Reading about all of his shit really stresses me out. Two of my family members are hoarders, and my last boyfriend was one too – I actually never saw his apartment before I gave him the boot because he couldn’t clear a path. OMG, how do you live with that anxiety?? More kittens, STAT! (Just not in the house.)

    Liked by 1 person

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