Back Fail
Good thing the water is out. I did the living room, Jim did the kitchen. I ran out of furiously pissed off madness once the water was out. More work on the drainage, talking to someone that does water engineering tomorrow to make sure our plans for the drainage are the right ones.
It's a good illustration of how things change once you chuck fundytown up onto the scrap heap of your personal history. Back in May 2000 our hot water heater came apart in the night and flooded the downstairs of our house to the depth of about two inches. Jim got up and went to work the next morning, coming upstairs to tell me there was 'a little spilled water' before departing.
I got up that morning, splashing through the water, and had a meltdown. But being that I was still in trying to be a good submissive Quiverfull momma and wife I swallowed my ire at Jim. It took a full week to get all the water out of the house. Houses in the U.S. are such different construction than here. Here it's concrete, sweep it out, mop with bleach. In the States we ended up having to replace wall board, flooring, carpets and baseboards. There was still small mold spots behind wallpaper we discovered when remodeling right before coming to Costa Rica.
What I remember is how incredibly angry I was for months afterwards. How angry I was at Jim, but how I had no outlet for that. I couldn't tell him that I was mad, I had to keep stay calm, smiling and serene even if I was so mad I should have had blood spurting from my eyes. I wonder what my blood pressure was then? I'm sure it was high. I thought that was my role as a wife.
Now I tell him. I sure told him last night. We lived. Nothing disastrous happened. No dueling pistols at dawn. No one's self image was harmed. I felt immediately better from having expressed what was going on. It's better than months of inner angry muttering. Trust me.
Which was good because last night our cat Stinky decided to do that thing I hate, hate so much I've ordered a motion activated can of spray air to keep him off the headboard. Sometimes he will get on top of our headboard, up about two feet, and just down. Never on the bed and never on Jim. Just on me. Last night night he got me in the back. It's been a day of back pain and the last of my carefully horded pain pills. I could not have squeegeed or mopped today.
It's a good illustration of how things change once you chuck fundytown up onto the scrap heap of your personal history. Back in May 2000 our hot water heater came apart in the night and flooded the downstairs of our house to the depth of about two inches. Jim got up and went to work the next morning, coming upstairs to tell me there was 'a little spilled water' before departing.
I got up that morning, splashing through the water, and had a meltdown. But being that I was still in trying to be a good submissive Quiverfull momma and wife I swallowed my ire at Jim. It took a full week to get all the water out of the house. Houses in the U.S. are such different construction than here. Here it's concrete, sweep it out, mop with bleach. In the States we ended up having to replace wall board, flooring, carpets and baseboards. There was still small mold spots behind wallpaper we discovered when remodeling right before coming to Costa Rica.
What I remember is how incredibly angry I was for months afterwards. How angry I was at Jim, but how I had no outlet for that. I couldn't tell him that I was mad, I had to keep stay calm, smiling and serene even if I was so mad I should have had blood spurting from my eyes. I wonder what my blood pressure was then? I'm sure it was high. I thought that was my role as a wife.
Now I tell him. I sure told him last night. We lived. Nothing disastrous happened. No dueling pistols at dawn. No one's self image was harmed. I felt immediately better from having expressed what was going on. It's better than months of inner angry muttering. Trust me.
Which was good because last night our cat Stinky decided to do that thing I hate, hate so much I've ordered a motion activated can of spray air to keep him off the headboard. Sometimes he will get on top of our headboard, up about two feet, and just down. Never on the bed and never on Jim. Just on me. Last night night he got me in the back. It's been a day of back pain and the last of my carefully horded pain pills. I could not have squeegeed or mopped today.
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