|
Tuesday, December 16, 2003: Piss piss moan moan
It's three o' clock in the afternoon, and raining. Today I went downtown with Delphine to buy tickets for the Sing-Along Messiah, and while we were down there we met Blake for lunch. It's nice to spend time with your husband, but after nine years together and three years married, apparently we have run out of things to say. I talked about housework -- what I've done, what I have yet to do, and Christmas -- what I have done, what I have yet to do. Blake mentioned (for the third time) that his company is moving to a new office in April. And then we were done. So we ate, and looked at the baby. Sometimes we have things to talk about, but today wasn't one of them.
We're all out of Firefly so now we're watching Buffy season whatever. The episode we're watching now is a Noxon episode. I miss Firefly. After the blackout I swore we wouldn't watch TV while we were eating dinner any more; it was so nice to eat at the dining table and talk to each other. I have no explanation as to why we stopped, but we did and now here we are, like brainless slobs, watching the tube and feeding our faces. Every single night. It's such a bad habit, and such a bad example to Delphine, and I don't understand why we don't just stop. I'm still generally unhappy with our evenings. Delphine eats her dinner, such that it is, at six-thirty. Blake gets home late, between seven-thirty and eight-thirty most nights. We usually don't eat until eight or nine or later, and then watch TV for an hour or two and go to bed. Delphine stays up with us and goes to bed when we do. I guess in my ideal June Cleaver world, Blake would get home at six or seven, I would have dinner all ready, we'd eat together at the dinner table and be done by eight at the latest. Delphine would go to bed and Blake and I would have a couple of hours before bed to read or watch TV. But Blake works out after work, which adds around an hour and a half to his day. To get home at six he'd have to leave the house at seven in the morning, which means we'd have to get up at six. I know there are millions of people who get up at six, but I can't ever see Blake being one of them. So this problem seems to be insoluble. I hate that. |