Married Life
The hub works from home. He's one room over in the home office and I'm showering in the master bathroom. He comes into the bathroom and I act sexy through the glass. He ignores me completely to use the restroom. I get out and dry off. With the towel wrapped around me, he emerges and washes his hands. "Seriously?" I ask as he doesn't so much as glance at me even though he's facing the wall mirror spanning the length of the His and Hers sinks. "Does a naked, wet wife do nothing for you anymore?" "Of course it does." He responds. He eyes the towel cloaking me and makes a bee-line. Thinking he's going to rip it off and expose me, I smile. He dries his wet hands on the corner and sneaks a peak at the empty towel rack behind me. Then turns and walks out-back to work.
SEXY BOOKWORM BLOGGER
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Showering With My Fear
I cried at work today.
The last month has been exceptionally stressful at work. Insanely busy, short-staffed (by that I mean, no staff), looooong hours and a lot of other BS. Even though I come home exhausted and tense and vowing never to go back, each morning I wake up and drag myself in for another 12 hour day. I hate it, but I also love it. I feel a sense of accomplishment because all this responsibility means simply, I'm responsible. I worked hard for these moments and I won't spend my time wishing it were different. Still...the stress does get to me.
But that's not why I cried.
Today was a promotional "Hot Dog Day." I remembered last night around 923pm and at 930pm found myself walking around a 24 hours Wal-Mart in my pj's stocking up on hot dogs, buns, soda and chips. It was now 308pm and I had yet to eat anything-busy as I was. My cell rang. A number I didn't recognize, so I answered. It was the lawyer working on my dad's case. She wanted to update my address (it only took 7 months) and then told me the insurance company may be ready to settle as soon as next week. I thanked her and got off the phone. Then the tears came.
I couldn't stop it. I sniffled. I wiped my eyes. I willed myself to stop and the harder I tried, the faster they fell. We were closing in less than an hour and the day was winding down. Still, I was embarrassed. I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, but I couldn't face myself in the mirror. Ashamed I was being weak and someone might catch me in this precarious situation. I stood in the middle of the bathroom and, avoiding the mirror, stared at the toilet. The same toilet seat I left down and some stupid boy peed on yesterday instead of lifting up and that was the final straw so I forced my borrowed help to clean the restrooms today. The first time in 5 weeks they had been cleaned. Why did I care what some stupid bad-aim boy cared about me? So what if I was crying at work? At least I know not to pee on the frigging toilet seat or would clean it up if I did!
And now I was crying more. I couldn't stay in the bathroom, hiding, for the next 40 minutes, so I emerged to face whatever criticism would come. But no one was in the showroom. My employee was in the warehouse. The phone didn't ring. I sat down at my desk and just stared at the computer screen daring someone to interrupt. Nobody did. I left the blinds up and my door wide open and my eyes red and wet. I almost wished someone would come by. Notice me. Ask me.
My CSR locked up and left for the day. I planned on staying late, but I couldn't. Call me petty, selfish, lazy. But I just didn't care-I needed out of there.
I drove to a bookstore-the one farthest away from me-to buy a book that I already purchased and was being shipped to me. On the long drive I thought about calling my dad. I always called him after a long, stressful day. Or when I was stuck in the car, in traffic. Today it was both, but his phone wouldn't be answered. I called a friend instead. When she had to go, I spoke to another.
I got to the bookstore, bought my book, sat in the car and read. I only meant to read for a while to clear my head. Four hours later it was dark and I finished the book. With nothing more to do, I drove home.
Another long, empty drive. Alone. I could have turned on the radio or drove faster, instead I called through my phone book. Dialed until I got hold of someone. And talked. I wanted to spill all my secrets, but the words wouldn't come. Afterward, I could only think about what a horrible friend I was.
When I got home, a package was waiting for me. My friend's daughter drew me a picture and sent me a care package. My brother and my husband called me thinking I was still out and they were worried. It struck me odd that people should care about me when I am incapable of connecting to others. I shut them out and push them away and I don't trust or get too close. I never get hurt. I thought about my dad's memorial and who would be there when I died. Then I showered.
As the filth of the day washed down the drain, I stared off wearily; distant. In the corner of the shower I noticed what appeared to be a ratted strand of hair and I flicked water at it to rinse it away. When it didn't budge, I bent down for a closer inspection. Through blurry eyes and grief and sorrow and stress and the weight of the world, I recognized the tangled mess as only someone with my severe phobia could: a spider occupied the shower with me. Was it dead or alive? I let the water stream over my shoulders and down my fingers and poked at it in waves. Normally paralyzed by my fear, today I towered over the beast, curious.
My enormous cat Bond sat right outside the shower doors. He guarded me. Protected me. But the very thing he defended against was inside. It taunted me when I was most vulnerable. Naked. Bare and weaponless my fear laid before me. The cat leaned across the bathmat blocking the shower door. At that moment I realized he was my warden. My savior unwittingly kept me locked in my prison.
I showered. With the spider in its corner and me in mine, I showered. Not in fear, but with my fear. Because I was Strong and Empowered.
Because in that moment there were more important things that terrified me.
The last month has been exceptionally stressful at work. Insanely busy, short-staffed (by that I mean, no staff), looooong hours and a lot of other BS. Even though I come home exhausted and tense and vowing never to go back, each morning I wake up and drag myself in for another 12 hour day. I hate it, but I also love it. I feel a sense of accomplishment because all this responsibility means simply, I'm responsible. I worked hard for these moments and I won't spend my time wishing it were different. Still...the stress does get to me.
But that's not why I cried.
Today was a promotional "Hot Dog Day." I remembered last night around 923pm and at 930pm found myself walking around a 24 hours Wal-Mart in my pj's stocking up on hot dogs, buns, soda and chips. It was now 308pm and I had yet to eat anything-busy as I was. My cell rang. A number I didn't recognize, so I answered. It was the lawyer working on my dad's case. She wanted to update my address (it only took 7 months) and then told me the insurance company may be ready to settle as soon as next week. I thanked her and got off the phone. Then the tears came.
I couldn't stop it. I sniffled. I wiped my eyes. I willed myself to stop and the harder I tried, the faster they fell. We were closing in less than an hour and the day was winding down. Still, I was embarrassed. I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, but I couldn't face myself in the mirror. Ashamed I was being weak and someone might catch me in this precarious situation. I stood in the middle of the bathroom and, avoiding the mirror, stared at the toilet. The same toilet seat I left down and some stupid boy peed on yesterday instead of lifting up and that was the final straw so I forced my borrowed help to clean the restrooms today. The first time in 5 weeks they had been cleaned. Why did I care what some stupid bad-aim boy cared about me? So what if I was crying at work? At least I know not to pee on the frigging toilet seat or would clean it up if I did!
And now I was crying more. I couldn't stay in the bathroom, hiding, for the next 40 minutes, so I emerged to face whatever criticism would come. But no one was in the showroom. My employee was in the warehouse. The phone didn't ring. I sat down at my desk and just stared at the computer screen daring someone to interrupt. Nobody did. I left the blinds up and my door wide open and my eyes red and wet. I almost wished someone would come by. Notice me. Ask me.
My CSR locked up and left for the day. I planned on staying late, but I couldn't. Call me petty, selfish, lazy. But I just didn't care-I needed out of there.
I drove to a bookstore-the one farthest away from me-to buy a book that I already purchased and was being shipped to me. On the long drive I thought about calling my dad. I always called him after a long, stressful day. Or when I was stuck in the car, in traffic. Today it was both, but his phone wouldn't be answered. I called a friend instead. When she had to go, I spoke to another.
I got to the bookstore, bought my book, sat in the car and read. I only meant to read for a while to clear my head. Four hours later it was dark and I finished the book. With nothing more to do, I drove home.
Another long, empty drive. Alone. I could have turned on the radio or drove faster, instead I called through my phone book. Dialed until I got hold of someone. And talked. I wanted to spill all my secrets, but the words wouldn't come. Afterward, I could only think about what a horrible friend I was.
When I got home, a package was waiting for me. My friend's daughter drew me a picture and sent me a care package. My brother and my husband called me thinking I was still out and they were worried. It struck me odd that people should care about me when I am incapable of connecting to others. I shut them out and push them away and I don't trust or get too close. I never get hurt. I thought about my dad's memorial and who would be there when I died. Then I showered.
As the filth of the day washed down the drain, I stared off wearily; distant. In the corner of the shower I noticed what appeared to be a ratted strand of hair and I flicked water at it to rinse it away. When it didn't budge, I bent down for a closer inspection. Through blurry eyes and grief and sorrow and stress and the weight of the world, I recognized the tangled mess as only someone with my severe phobia could: a spider occupied the shower with me. Was it dead or alive? I let the water stream over my shoulders and down my fingers and poked at it in waves. Normally paralyzed by my fear, today I towered over the beast, curious.
My enormous cat Bond sat right outside the shower doors. He guarded me. Protected me. But the very thing he defended against was inside. It taunted me when I was most vulnerable. Naked. Bare and weaponless my fear laid before me. The cat leaned across the bathmat blocking the shower door. At that moment I realized he was my warden. My savior unwittingly kept me locked in my prison.
I showered. With the spider in its corner and me in mine, I showered. Not in fear, but with my fear. Because I was Strong and Empowered.
Because in that moment there were more important things that terrified me.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
When A Prank Goes Too Far
Let me preface this post with some background. My teenage brother recently moved in with me and my husband. It has been interesting having him (6 years my junior) as a roommate, but overall it has been pretty cool. He cleans up after himself, doesn't hog the remote, and even cooks dinner 3 nights a week. However, he also has a pesky problem: he pranks me constantly.
To date, he has haunted me with annoying renditions of Europe's Final Countdown (you can reference: FINAL COUNTDOWN), switched my decorative crystals in the kitchen with other colors then periodically moves them or hides them to irritate me, tore out the last page of the last book in a 900 page trilogy I was reading-right before I left on a business trip and couldn't murder him, placed paper propped-up cutouts of Keanu Reeves sitting down eating a sandwich in random places like my desk, the dryer, the pantry, my shower...
BTW the full length of this thread was 112 posts long. And yes, it is sad and pathetic that I was upstairs, my husband one room over in the office and Daniel downstairs.
Thus far, the pranks have been harmless, albeit annoying. But I ask you: When has a prank gone too far?
Several weeks ago, my brother and husband went out to the middle of the desert at night to drive around my brother's redneck truck and shoot guns. The next day they bring me lunch at work and tell me all about their adventure, including a tall tale of being surprised by a cougar who wandered up to them. I'm not buying what their selling. I implore them to prove it. Then my husband tells me he was able to snap a picture of my brother scaring the mountain lion off with a shovel and homemade torch (they were playing "Lost"-Desert Style, don't ask). When I asked why only one photo was taken, he said the flash drew the curious cat's attention and they didn't want to push their luck, so he put down the camera and grabbed the gun. I still didn't believe them until I saw the photo myself and my brother put it up as his FB profile pic.
The picture heard 'round the world:
If a photo is worth a thousand words, this one said it all. It solidified their story and made them heroes. I told my friends, family and co-workers about it.
Now, 3 weeks later, I was notified it was a hoax. The image above was "Photo-shopped." I am more than a little peeved. Not that I had been fooled and played into it, but for the sheer fact that they lied to me for so long. They let me believe their story and use my reputation to share the harrowing tale with others. Moreover, I only discovered the truth through my grandpa. Daniel's picture on FB sparked interest from other family members, so the photo was emailed to poor, unsuspecting grandparents who then blasted all their friends and family. I don't know how the truth came to light, but needless to say, the G'rents are not happy.
So when does a prank become something more? I hold that this prank may have started funny, but ended cruelly when it lasted longer than showing the initial picture. How long can you let a prank like this go before it just turns into a massive lie?
Pranking someone leaves a trusting person feeling like a fool for the amusement of others. It's a lot easier to forgive when only a few people are aware you have been duped. The longer it goes on and the more witnesses adds to the humiliations and that's when the prank turns cruel. At what point would you have told the truth? If my grandpa didn't discover the truth, I may have never known.
Who should be more ashamed? The prankster or the pranked?
He even got me by spiking my glass of water with pure mint extract-so much that my mouth was numb for hours.
RE:
Valerie Can you bring me my water?
May 26 at 9:59pm ·
Valerie Wait. why did you " " water? Please don't spit in it.
May 26 at 10:00pm ·
Valerie That just sounds dirty now.
May 26 at 10:02pm ·
Valerie i hate you
May 26 at 10:04pm ·
Valerie I am dead serious! What did I just put in my mouth?
May 26 at 10:09pm ·
Valerie he promised not to put anything in my water yet after one sip, my mouth is numb and tingly.
May 26 at 10:10pm ·
Valerie Daniel Brian! Tell me right now what you did.
May 26 at 10:11pm ·
Valerie Fine then. what did you do to the glass? And why does your hand smell funny?
May 26 at 10:12pm ·
Valerie NVM.I do NOT want to know.
May 26 at 10:13pm ·
Valerie There's lots of things that won't kill me, but I don't stick those in my mouth. It's unpleasant.
May 26 at 10:14pm ·
Valerie Daniel just ran up here to pour the water out. Is antifreeze minty? I think I may have been poisoned.
May 26 at 10:19pm · · 2 people
Valerie Me too. It's Friday! Next time, poison me on a Sunday.Ii always have the worst Mondays...
May 26 at 10:26pm ·
Valerie And it was only a sip.
May 26 at 10:28pm ·
Valerie crap.
May 26 at 10:29pm ·
Valerie huh?
May 26 at 10:31pm ·
Valerie Are you fucking serious?
May 26 at 10:32pm ·
Valerie My lips are still numb, you know.
May 26 at 10:33pm ·
Valerie I wouldn't put it past you to poison me, but all the same, I;m glad you didn't. However, my lips really are still numb and that water tasted minty, so I think I'll be preparing my own food and drink from now on.
May 26 at 10:34pm ·
Valerie LOL. Ok, that's pretty damn good. I didn't realize that much pure mint would temporarily paralyze someone!
May 26 at 10:37pm ·
Daniel haha neither did i. i just opened the pantry looking for food dye but then i saw the extract
May 26 at 10:38pm · · 1 person
BTW the full length of this thread was 112 posts long. And yes, it is sad and pathetic that I was upstairs, my husband one room over in the office and Daniel downstairs.
Thus far, the pranks have been harmless, albeit annoying. But I ask you: When has a prank gone too far?
Several weeks ago, my brother and husband went out to the middle of the desert at night to drive around my brother's redneck truck and shoot guns. The next day they bring me lunch at work and tell me all about their adventure, including a tall tale of being surprised by a cougar who wandered up to them. I'm not buying what their selling. I implore them to prove it. Then my husband tells me he was able to snap a picture of my brother scaring the mountain lion off with a shovel and homemade torch (they were playing "Lost"-Desert Style, don't ask). When I asked why only one photo was taken, he said the flash drew the curious cat's attention and they didn't want to push their luck, so he put down the camera and grabbed the gun. I still didn't believe them until I saw the photo myself and my brother put it up as his FB profile pic.
The picture heard 'round the world:
If a photo is worth a thousand words, this one said it all. It solidified their story and made them heroes. I told my friends, family and co-workers about it.
Now, 3 weeks later, I was notified it was a hoax. The image above was "Photo-shopped." I am more than a little peeved. Not that I had been fooled and played into it, but for the sheer fact that they lied to me for so long. They let me believe their story and use my reputation to share the harrowing tale with others. Moreover, I only discovered the truth through my grandpa. Daniel's picture on FB sparked interest from other family members, so the photo was emailed to poor, unsuspecting grandparents who then blasted all their friends and family. I don't know how the truth came to light, but needless to say, the G'rents are not happy.
So when does a prank become something more? I hold that this prank may have started funny, but ended cruelly when it lasted longer than showing the initial picture. How long can you let a prank like this go before it just turns into a massive lie?
Pranking someone leaves a trusting person feeling like a fool for the amusement of others. It's a lot easier to forgive when only a few people are aware you have been duped. The longer it goes on and the more witnesses adds to the humiliations and that's when the prank turns cruel. At what point would you have told the truth? If my grandpa didn't discover the truth, I may have never known.
Who should be more ashamed? The prankster or the pranked?
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