Bodacious Boomer

I’m writing this quickly before we leave for the festival so this may have more typos than usual. Also, I am bone weary and frustrated so if you’re offended by cursing, you’d better stop reading NOW.

Festa Italiana started yesterday. Now Doug knew this day was coming for the last month. He did. Did he get his shit together this past week  so it wouldn’t be stressful and we could actually get some rest Thursday night?

Hell no. Was I surprised? Hell no. Procrastination King is well known to me.

Instead he was being his procrastinating self and basically put everything off til the last minute-again. Now this is the shit that I cannot do, that he must do, moving heavy shit, man shit. So instead of being ready to go to set everything up Thursday at 1pm, we got there at 6pm then hurriedly off loaded everything at our space, then raced around Houston like two pinballs on crack trying to pull everything else together at the last minute. For those who do not know, we share a car. Therefore, when he’s out and about, piddle dicking around doing things he deems  necessary, I’m stuck at home. And when you’re in Houston, you’re stuck. There is no mass transit anywhere near where we live, not that it would do me much good in the instance.

Now in his defense, he wasn’t out getting lap dances or anything. He was getting “stuff” to work on his projects. Projects which eventually will turn into gift items to sell for the holidays. The problem is, his time estimation skills SUCK! They always have. There’s real time, what the whole world uses; then there’s Doug time, which he runs on. They are vastly different. The only time he ran on normal time was when he was a supervisor for the Census. Then he had to run on real world time like the rest of us.

Of course being the perfect little wifey that I am, I ever so sweetly reminded him all week that he needed to get everything together.

“You’re gonna run outta time. You are. You need to start getting your shit together for the show.”

“I’ll take care of it.” As God as my witness, I was told this at least 20 times this week. In my defense, I was not a harpy about it.- I wasn’t! I saw what was happening, I did; but I can only “mom” him so much. (I hate having to do that. It’s on my top 5 of hates, along with people who can eat whatever they want and never gain weight and people who don’t like animals. (I don’t trust them.) I’ve tried to explain that no normal woman wants to sleep with a man she has to “mother”, Ewwwwww.

So instead of coming home Thursday afternoon and having a relaxing evening, resting up for working long hours this weekend, we got home late and I got to stay up til 2 am painting a new face painting board, since Doug couldn’t find my old one. (Go figure.) That fell under the “I’ll take care of it.” heading.

Then when I finally got to bed, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about is how much there still was to do yesterday before the festival opened. So by the time I woke up Friday morning after little sleep I did get, I looked ravishing and was in a fine frame of mind and he was running around like a surly Chicken Little desperately in need of a shot in the ass by a tranq gun.

Finally, he snapped at me one time too many. I felt like Popeye. I’d had all I could stands, I couldn’t stands no more.

“Shut up!”

“You shut up!”

“Fuck off! It’s your fault we’re running so behind! You kept procrastinating all week!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up!”

That was the end of the fight.

Those were actually the first harsh words we’d spoken to each other in probably 6 months. What I found interesting was he wasn’t upset about the fuck off remark, just the shut up. It seems our arguments had evolved into a kind of nasty shorthand.

There wasn’t one word spoken for about 2 hours after that. But if you’re working together at an event you’ve gotta talk to each other eventually. So we did. Good thing we love each other.

We had an OK day on Friday, financially speaking. Now I have a serious need for some Vitameatavegamin though.

Of course by Friday afternoon, Doug and I were OK again. We usually don’t stay mad for long.

And on top of everything else today, I found last tonight there is no Italian Cream Cake at this event! Grrrr…. I don’t want to buy a whole damn cake somewhere. I just wanted a slice.

So I got to sleep sometime after 2am last night and am up early again today. It’s gonna be a loooooong day, and we have to go back tomorrow. However, we’re blessed at least that the weather is perfect.

I am getting way too old to sit out on the street working like this. For God’s sake would  you guys please help make me famous so I can quit doing festivals? Please!