Knock-down, drag-out tired...

Orpheus and I had a rough night yesterday. It’s more of the same argument where I say something’s wrong, and he says it’s OK on his end. The problem is, it’s not OK. I’m tired of having to talk about the same things over and over, nothing ever changing. I wish I could say that I think things will change, but that would be a lie. That joke where the bum asks for change, and the Buddhist quips, “Change comes from within,” isn’t terribly far off the mark. Some of us are restless, and others are wasting our talents, our lives, our educations just to settle for second- or third-best. O. isn’t second- or third-best, but his job and attitude on art currently are. He no longer has the excuse of classes to force him to write, which means that he’s paying student loans off for training on skills that are atrophying. I may not be in a great place myself, but I’m trying to get into a better one, both for me and for him. I want to march forward with my bard, not look back, but it’s difficult when he’s stalling in place. There’s only so long to wait before I’ll be forced to move for myself, and the clock is definitely ticking.

Because of the fight, there was no sex, because there was no sex, I didn’t sleep terribly well, because I didn’t sleep very well (and, let’s face it, because there was no sex), I feel like a pile of dirty change rather than the million bucks I should be blinging to the rafters. Plus, we had flu shots in the office today, and that nurse stuck me like she was holding a long-standing grudge. My delt is sore, my head aches, it’s too warm down in this subterranean hell I call a workplace, and I’m busily expecting a call from the good folks at John Deere Credit regarding a position that will make a bad dream of this job. I want to go home and pull the covers over my head, wake up employed elsewhere with a huge savings account, a paid-for car, better clothes, no fat lesbian roommate, and weekly maid service. That would help immensely. Oh, yeah, while I’m busy fishing for universal peace and happiness, I could also stand some credit debt relief!

Furthermore, I made the most awful “tomato sauce” last night… I peeled the tomatoes alright, but didn’t seed them. And I added bay and rosemary instead of just going for the basil. It tasted like really bad ratatouille, god(des) forgive me, and there’s really nothing good about that. O. did make a delicious garlic bread to go along with the pasta, though. He just softened a ¼ c. of butter, blended with pressed garlic cloves, and spread it on bread. Wrapped the bread, cooked it for about 10 min., and then broiled after grating fresh Parmisano Romano over it… The one problem was the flimsy baking sheet, which “popped” in the oven, putting the edge of one half the garlic bread to the broiler directly, which edge caught fire. I blew it out before there was any real damage, but there was a little scorch on an otherwise perfect dish.