You Would Think
You would think that after nearly 33 years of marriage that it would have finally dawned on Jim that the middle of the night and the very early morning is so not the time to have a discussion with me about anything serious.
Last night I passed out about 9:30, just exhausted from dealing with this awful cold for the last week. Around midnight Jim decides to try and talk to me about what I do not know. All because I sighed and turned over in the bed in a moment of slight almost almost awakeness.
Jim: "Hey, whata you think about blahblah blah? I think we should do blah, blah, blah.."
Me: "Huh? Potato. Leamington. Faffleafngoi @#(*%6"
Jim : "No really, what do you think:"
Me: ***SNORE******
Followed by shuffling along around 7 am, making a direct bee line for my French coffee press, not much more awake than I was last night. I do not have conversations before coffee. I just feel super cranky, like being a serial killer is a completely doable idea.
Jim, popping in my path to the coffee starts babbling and trying to negotiate how much more of the house is being painted light yellow.
Me: *shuffle, shuffle* Gah! I cannot think right now I need coffee! *shuffle shuffle*
Jim: continues to try to get between me and the coffee pot babbling even more inanities like he's going to hire Hell Bert his friend to paint the interior.
Me: WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING THIS AGAIN! WE ALREADY DID A DOZEN TIMES> IF YOU KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR YOU YOU WILL BACK AWAY FROM THE COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!"
...and so it goes.
You would think he'd know by now that I do not do well pre coffee.
He wants to hire Hell Bert to paint in the house, which I think is one very bad idea. Hell Bert worked last year for us before he and Jim had a falling out. Hell Bert is a local guy that tried to treat Jim like his own personal ATM. He's starting to do that again, I see it coming, but Jim does not.
Last week Jim got Hell Bert to finish up the outside painting Jim left undone after falling from the step ladder. It should have taken him no more than 6 hours. Hell Bert stretched it to three days, demanded extra money, demanded I cook lunch and breakfast. Nope, did not happen and will not happen.
I have been powerless to stop this because I've been felled by one of the worst colds I'd ever had. We are talking wake up, guzzle cough syrup, cough, cough, cough and collapse. I've been insensate in the bed and on the new couch the better part of the week. In the few hours I've been ambulatory I've been driving Jim to physical therapy and to get juice and drinks for the house, plus cough syrup. My brain has been stuck on super stupid all week.
Which means now that I'm slightly emerging I'm going to have to put paid to Hell Bert's working for us. Hell Bert is here right now, with his entire extended family in our pool. Hell Bert is one of those give them an inch and they'll take a mile folks. Last year he volunteered to teach our kids surfing, charged Jim three times what any of the surf shops charge, bought a huge amount of food with Jim to 'cook' for us on the beach. I think we were ending up spending like 600 for that weekend in costs for something that should never have run a fraction. Jim does not remember, but I do.
Hell Bert also thinks Jim is going to go into business with him doing motorcycle tours of Costa Rica. Another not happening. It would take boatloads of money to get that off the ground and time. Jim was never serious about it, yet Hell Bert is obnoxiously pushing it again.
Just like I'll never been good for conversations in the middle of the night and in the morning Hell Bert is not trustworthy. But sadly enough I might have to leave Jim to discover this on his own. Right now he wants Hell Bert to finish up the inside painting. I do not. I don't even want him in the house.
Last night I passed out about 9:30, just exhausted from dealing with this awful cold for the last week. Around midnight Jim decides to try and talk to me about what I do not know. All because I sighed and turned over in the bed in a moment of slight almost almost awakeness.
Jim: "Hey, whata you think about blahblah blah? I think we should do blah, blah, blah.."
Me: "Huh? Potato. Leamington. Faffleafngoi @#(*%6"
Jim : "No really, what do you think:"
Me: ***SNORE******
Followed by shuffling along around 7 am, making a direct bee line for my French coffee press, not much more awake than I was last night. I do not have conversations before coffee. I just feel super cranky, like being a serial killer is a completely doable idea.
Jim, popping in my path to the coffee starts babbling and trying to negotiate how much more of the house is being painted light yellow.
Me: *shuffle, shuffle* Gah! I cannot think right now I need coffee! *shuffle shuffle*
Jim: continues to try to get between me and the coffee pot babbling even more inanities like he's going to hire Hell Bert his friend to paint the interior.
Me: WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING THIS AGAIN! WE ALREADY DID A DOZEN TIMES> IF YOU KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR YOU YOU WILL BACK AWAY FROM THE COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!"
...and so it goes.
You would think he'd know by now that I do not do well pre coffee.
He wants to hire Hell Bert to paint in the house, which I think is one very bad idea. Hell Bert worked last year for us before he and Jim had a falling out. Hell Bert is a local guy that tried to treat Jim like his own personal ATM. He's starting to do that again, I see it coming, but Jim does not.
Last week Jim got Hell Bert to finish up the outside painting Jim left undone after falling from the step ladder. It should have taken him no more than 6 hours. Hell Bert stretched it to three days, demanded extra money, demanded I cook lunch and breakfast. Nope, did not happen and will not happen.
I have been powerless to stop this because I've been felled by one of the worst colds I'd ever had. We are talking wake up, guzzle cough syrup, cough, cough, cough and collapse. I've been insensate in the bed and on the new couch the better part of the week. In the few hours I've been ambulatory I've been driving Jim to physical therapy and to get juice and drinks for the house, plus cough syrup. My brain has been stuck on super stupid all week.
Which means now that I'm slightly emerging I'm going to have to put paid to Hell Bert's working for us. Hell Bert is here right now, with his entire extended family in our pool. Hell Bert is one of those give them an inch and they'll take a mile folks. Last year he volunteered to teach our kids surfing, charged Jim three times what any of the surf shops charge, bought a huge amount of food with Jim to 'cook' for us on the beach. I think we were ending up spending like 600 for that weekend in costs for something that should never have run a fraction. Jim does not remember, but I do.
Hell Bert also thinks Jim is going to go into business with him doing motorcycle tours of Costa Rica. Another not happening. It would take boatloads of money to get that off the ground and time. Jim was never serious about it, yet Hell Bert is obnoxiously pushing it again.
Just like I'll never been good for conversations in the middle of the night and in the morning Hell Bert is not trustworthy. But sadly enough I might have to leave Jim to discover this on his own. Right now he wants Hell Bert to finish up the inside painting. I do not. I don't even want him in the house.
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