A Record Breaking Day!

I feel like crap today. Crap on toast. I’m coming down with a cold and I almost called in sick to work. It’s only The Boss and I and this week, being Spring Break, has been insane, so I took some ibuprofen and spent some extra time in the dog park soaking up the sun before heading to work.

It was crazy busy almost from the moment I opened the door. The parade of people was for the most part normal, but there was this one woman…

Note to the woman in the Daisy Duke shorts – You’re* way too old for that outfit, honey. It’s not a good look for you. At all. OMG and WTF.

She had a spray tan that would have done any contestant on “Toddlers & Tiaras” proud, with fake boobs out to here, and a pair of Daisy Duke shorts with a border of eyelet lace around the leg openings that made them an inch longer and they were still short enough to show a half-moon of cellulite-filled ass cheek. It was all I could do to serve her and her three asshole kids while keeping a straight face. Srsly. Who told her that was a good look?

By the time the till was counted out (an hour after our “official” close time) it was the second highest earning day in the shop’s history. The Boss was there for most of it, and I am so happy about that because I likely would not have made it alone. It was crazy! The sun was shining and it was 70* a block from the beach at 11:00 – conditions unheard of here in March.

Tomorrow could be more of the same if the Weather Dudes are to be believed.

* Notice the correct usage of the contraction of You Are. Does no one pay attention in English class these days? I can’t count the number of memes and “inspirational” pictures on FB and other sites that are so poorly written I see red every time I have to view another piece of crap. Why do people “like” this garbage? I’ve started leaving comments on them, pointing out the spelling and grammar errors. I just can’t help myself.

 

Monday

M said that he wants to take me out to dinner on my birthday next week. I did not commit, told him to shoot me an e-mail and forgot about it by the time I got home.

Awana came over to watch a movie and drink adult beverages and wanted all the dirt on what had happened with M. When I told her he wanted to take me out to dinner her reply was priceless:

“He wants to what? That’s dating! WTF are you thinking?!?” She actually said double-u, tee, eff, which was awesome! She also said that she hopes someday soon there won’t be any room in our conversation (or our lives) for Narcs and all their bullshit.

She’s right. I was thinking of a free meal where I would drop the bombshell that not only was I not going to waste my Summer taking care of his shit, I wasn’t coming back, either. Ever. I kinda had it staged in my mind and was working on some clever quips, reminding myself to get some cash so I could pay for my own meal if things went sour as they are bound to do.

Her words stopped me in my mental tracks. WTF am I doing?

Last year my birthday was so devastating that it still hurts to recall and I’m entertaining the thought of giving in to his request for a meal together? Sorry, I lost my mind for a minute there.

New game plan. The bunnies have food enough for a few weeks and won’t need any grooming for at least a couple of weeks, long after my birthday at any rate, so I have no reason to communicate with M at all. He has not sent any notes and if this next battle goes as I think it will, he won’t. He will wait for me to send him an e-mail, detailing where I want to eat and setting a time – that way he can claim that I wanted to see him, not the other way around.

When said e-mail fails to arrive in his inbox, he will wait until the evening of my birthday and then either call or send an e-mail saying how hurt he is that I backed out of a “promise” yet again and how pitiful he feels, blah, blah, blah, whatever. My Special Day will be all about him and he will expect an apology for my “bad behavior.” Ain’t gonna happen. Radio Silence will be maintained where M is concerned until further notice.

Now, I gotta get some sleep – an old friend is in town and she wants to meet tomorrow for tea. On Thursday my Mom will be here and she wants to see Towanda and go out for lunch so I better get this place into something like organized shape before then.

Congrats to FranticHippie of the comments for being Narc free for almost two weeks! Life only gets better from here 🙂

 

Mission Accomplished

Bunny food was delivered and Sabu and I got out with hide and spirit intact.

I called M from the feed store to let him know I was on the way. I also told a lie and said that I was running short on time and had to meet Awana so that I could put a time limit on our “visit.”

I put the bunny food away and went inside. Within five minutes he was whining that I had promised him a long conjugal visit and was hurt that I had made other plans. WTF?!? Srsly?!? Uh…Hell No!

The conversation went along the usual lines. He pleaded that he’s been good to me the last two months (really? I haven’t even been there, asshole!) and is so hurt and lonely and can’t afford to keep his house or internet connection, blah, blah, blah.

I told him that he’s not getting it. That his yelling and devaluing my feelings and denying me the right to an opinion and to share that opinion without fear of retaliation is a basic human right that he denies me.

He asked for examples. I gave them. He promptly turned it around so that I was to blame for his behavior. He then started with the crocodile tears and asking me why I came over if I’m just going to “hammer away at” him. Sigh.

Wash, rinse, repeat. He just doesn’t get it. No, he refuses to listen to my actual words – he’s too busy turning them around to suit himself. I pointed out that the problem resides in his brain, but he denies that as well.

We got back around to the Camping Incident and he gave me yet another warped view of events as he remembers them. I called bullshit and told him that the problem wasn’t what he thought happened, but that he felt berating me for three hours was a suitable response.

What I should have said, but didn’t think about until I was a mile away was, “I can’t control what men think about when they look at me or talk to me, but I certainly can control what I think and I’m not picturing any of them naked! You should respect me enough to know that. The fact that you don’t speaks volumes about our “relationship.”

He demanded that we “quit living in the past.” He told me that I need to admit that I hurt him too and bear at least half the responsibility for where we are now. He cried that I never gave him a nickname and that I never say his name. Oh, whatever!

More than anything else I felt disgust. Irritation, too. I can see behind his mask and he doesn’t realize that yet. It’s an interesting experiment, I have to admit, kinda like a train wreck full of crash dummies – no blood or gore, but interesting nonetheless.

Anyway. Sabu and I went to the dog park where over the course of the next hour five dogs came in and ran Sabu into a panting, drooling rag. Yay!

Since the shop has been so busy this week I thought it would earn me some Karma Points if I stopped by to see if The Boss needed some help. Sure enough, and I spent 1.5 hours scooping ice cream. The Boss gave me a nickel an hour raise 🙂 Woo-hoo! It just keeps getting better.

Off to a local cafe for take-out cod fish & chips and Sabu and I are home, warm, well-fed and ready for a nap. Well, Sabu is already napping – she likes to do everything first…

 

WTF Moments at Work

I’ve mentioned that I work in an ice cream/candy store. I love my job, really I do – the shop is cute, we sell products that I can totally get behind, The Boss is great and has even let me take over on Wednesday nights and have my friends over for a Stitch & Bitch and he lets me sell my woolen goods and soap in the shop. Most days the customers are friendly and if they walk in grumpy they leave with a belly full of ice cream or chocolate and they are usually smiling.

That said, this week is Spring Break. Thousands of people head to the Coast (we don’t say “we’re going to the beach” here, it’s always The Coast) for a week of fun and frolic, overindulging in the local shops and generally behaving like ill-mannered tourists. Okay, not all of them are assholes, but quite a few are and they all wanted ice cream today.

Needless to say, I was working the shop alone. Since I am only one person, it really doesn’t make sense for a family group of TWENTY to complain when they don’t have ice cream cones stuffed into their evil spawn’s screaming mouths within five seconds of entering the shop to complain about the service.

Srsly. TWENTY people walk in, 2/3 of them screaming, nasty, dirty children and they want to be served instantly.

Lemme tell you what really irritates me:

Letting your children LICK the ice cream case. Really? They aren’t the first to lick the case today, but you don’t seem to care – it’s much better to have them silent for three seconds than to tell them to keep their fucking dirty mouths off my ice cream case. Gag!

Ditto for dirty fingers – the case looks like a sure source of infection and if I had come in after that group I would have left immediately because the germs were thick in the air and on all surfaces.

Licking and smearing up the glass-topped table like they’ve never eaten indoors before. I understand you’re tired and have had enough time with your little plague-carrying spawn today, but that doesn’t mean that you have to let them make even more work for me.

Letting  your children scream and run around the shop in total disregard for me or the other customers. Maybe the lady in the expensive suede boots does not think it’s amusing for your child to dribble ice cream out of its mouth onto her shoes. Srsly?

And then you make a snide remark about how maybe I should hire someone to help out? The shop was empty five minutes ago – what would my “helper” do then? Who does he think will pay to have someone standing around? Does he really think that the shops should have some people “on call” so when they see this group from hell walking down the street they can be prepared?

It was a busy day, lots of characters to deal with, and I like to think that I did a good job and kept my sense of humor, but when the last couple of teen boys walked in AN HOUR after closing and wanted service, well, I may have been a little short with them. The signs were off, as were half the lights and I was mopping the floor. All signs that a shop is CLOSED. Not for the tourists, oh, no, they expect the shops to be open any time they want a treat.

Yes, I could have locked the door, but then people stand outside, yanking on it, making it bang (scaring me half to death) and then they knock and ask, “are you still open?” Duh. I swear, these people leave their brains at home. If their money wasn’t so important to this little Tourist Town I would have a really bad attitude.

Tired. Just venting.

Tomorrow will be a stressful day as I need to take food out to the bunnies and inform M that I will not be house sitting for him so that he can take his Dream Cruise, secure in the knowledge that his shit will be Taken Care of while he’s gone. I will also be calling around to see if I can find a home for the buns. Haven’t decided yet if I’ll offer to take Pookie the Cat to live with Sabu, Towanda and I – it’s clear that she misses me and M is not fulfilling his duties as Cat Slave, so it might work out okay, but she would have to become an indoor cat, which she might not like. Then again, she is becoming more sedentary in her old age, wanting nothing more than a warm lap and constant petting. Until she’s done, then she wants to be left alone to sleep Over There.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

That is all. Carry on.

 

100 Followers?

How did that happen? I’ve been blogging for 12 years. I author five other blogs and not one of them has ever garnered the following that this blog has. Evidently writing about abusive relationships is more interesting than writing about my wool addiction or building fiddles or sewing for classic boats.

Anyhoo, Cynthia L. Baker of Simple Pleasures Photography is Follower Number One Hundred!

Uh, this is embarrassing, but I don’t have a prize ready to hand out. I don’t even have an idea for a stunning reward for reading my little blog. I could send some bunny fluff, or a vintage-style apron in your favorite color (yeah, I sew, too) or some handspun yarn, or a postcard signed by Sabu?

Any ideas, readers? I’ve never had enough readers to bother giving out prizes. What do y’all do?

I’d like to take a minute to thank all of you for stopping by, leaving comments, “liking” my posts (you don’t have to agree or have anything to say, it helps a lot just to know that you’ve read my rantings) and sending private notes to bolster my courage on this journey. You mean the world to me and I couldn’t have changed my life in such a wonderful way without all of you.

MMwwwwwaaahhhh!

 

Visit with the Narc addendum

I forgot one little gem in my post about the visit with M.

He made a comment about cleaning house and then went on to say that it took him two weeks to clean all the “hair, dust and mold” out of the spaces I occupied in his house and now his sinus condition has cleared up!

He went on about it for awhile, saying that I had a lot of stuff that couldn’t be moved to be cleaned behind and that my storage system was not well thought out and he should have stepped in to make it better so he didn’t develop sinus problems.

WTF? He “gave” me a very limited space for my things. They had to be stacked up high against the walls in an unheated space with a concrete floor. No heater was allowed into that space, nor was I permitted to move things around when he was home as I “blocked traffic” and he was not willing to use one of the other two doors to gain access to the house.

The Rules just went on and on. I was trapped. My stuff was basically off limits to me. With two dogs and a cat in the house there is bound to be hair getting stuck behind stuff that doesn’t get moved often enough. Because no heat was allowed out there, mildew was able to grow.

So who is the cause of his misery?

It does prove that he is capable of cleaning if he wants to…

 

He is determined…

…to get an income from me. Unbelievable! Here’s an excerpt from his latest e-mail (Bold mine):

That little cat is the crux of the plan. I get the impression that you would not appreciate being a slave to a little stripy cat.  But you know what she requires. If you can’t stay here full time, then I will have to revise my plans. Guilt, guilt, guilt.

As we discussed, I also need you to monitor the phone on a daily basis, a day lapse could mean a lot. To him – it means fuck all to me.

I need to know in the next two weeks. If you can’t make these commitments, just let me know and I won’t go. So he would have to cancel the only thing that keeps him sane all year if I don’t commit to covering his ass.

I could offer that you could move back here and when I come back from my summer travels, if we are not on better terms, I would move onto our boat. OUR boat? Since when? Financially it could be better. I don’t know what you pay now, but I would need $400 a month to cover the expense of moorage and haul-out maintenance. I would leave you completely on your own, if that is what you wish. As if!

He is pushing very hard for my commitment to house sit for him over the Summer. It would entail giving up my life from May to July, staying most nights with the kitty at his house, taking care of the yard and anything that comes up. Since this is a privilege, I will not be paid, or if I will, he has not mentioned it. Of course, the rabbits are still there, so I suppose he feels that space for them is adequate compensation for me.

Now let’s take a closer look at his note.

Guilt about the cat – check.

Another request that I monitor his phone messages (how I’m supposed to let him know he got an important call when he’s in Canada for fuck’s sake has not been ironed out) because he has a case open to claim disability (which I really have no problem with – he’s pretty disabled) and his lawyer calls – check.

Yet another request that I move back in – check.

One more request for a monthly income from me – check.

The only thing missing is a pity party.

Now, I’m not sure if I have this straight, so tell me if you think this note means what I think it means:

He gets to live on his boat (his Life Long Dream) while I live in his house and take care of all the bills (I assume property taxes will be included in that number,) maintenance, upkeep, etc.

He will need full access at all times because he has other boats on the property and all of his tools and materials that will never fit on the boat will have to stay there, so he can come over at any time to work on a project, collect tools or supplies, etc.

He will also (if his behavior towards his former tenants is any indicator) inspect the house and grounds for damage, cleanliness, tidiness, etc. any time he comes over. He will rage and lecture about anything he deems out of place and demand changes Right.This.Minute. Non-compliance will result in more verbal abuse and threats of eviction.

He will still own the house and can sell it at any time. He can also evict me if he gets a wild hair because there is no way he would ever be willing to sign a binding rental contract.

AND I will pay him $400.00 per month for all this.

Sounds like a Sweet Deal, eh? For HIM.

Am I missing something here?

 

Dog in a Sunbeam

Sabu napping in a rare March sunbeam with her bones close at hand

 

Sleep and other physical changes

As you all know by now (and if you don’t, click the RV Living tag to get caught up) I’ve been sleeping on a loveseat-sized fold-out couch since my escape from the Narc. The mattress that came folded inside was still in the plastic wrap from the factory and I decided that it would do until I could get something better – I had bigger fish to fry and usually sleep like a log anyway.

A couple of weeks ago I started waking in the middle of the night with aching hips and shoulders from, I assume, painful pressure points caused by the spring-filled mattress. Yes, I could feel the bar of the fold-out frame, too, but it never seemed that bad while I was awake and thinking about it. Something had to be done.

I ordered a foam mattress from Replacement Mattress and it arrived on Wednesday. I ordered the new mattress a couple of inches smaller all around so I could tuck the blankets under and store them made up on the bed inside the sofa when not in use – the old mattress was a bit large and the quilts got pinched in the hinges of the frame. Anyway, here it is –

As advertised, I can’t feel the bar of the folding frame. It was shrink-wrapped so tight I was afraid it was way too small, but the hiss of air and almost scary way it inflated as I cut off the shipping plastic reassured me that I ordered the correct size. It is a bit short, but that will prove to be a Good Thing, as now it won’t rest against the floor when folded up, inviting mildew to form. Gotta think of everything!

I’ve now slept on it three nights in a row and found it very hard to get up this morning – I wanted to lay there all day, but there was a dog to be fed and walked and that darned Work Thing, so away the bed must go until later.

All this to say that maybe I haven’t been getting as much rest as I thought I was getting. My sleep pattern has changed since leaving M, but lately I’ve been tired in the morning and sleepy during the afternoon, which maybe was caused by the sucky spring-filled mattress? I don’t know yet, but I’ll keep y’all informed because I know you can’t sleep before you know if I have 🙂

Here’s another interesting development from the TMI Department: my bowels are on a regular, daily schedule and have been since Freedom Day One. I know, right? You had no idea that my bowels were irregular, and now you are relieved (ha ha, I kill me!) to know that they are regular for maybe the first time in my adult life. Yay, me! And yay, you! for reading this far…

 

Visit with the Narc

Fairly recovered from the visit with the Narc yesterday.

I had to go over there and deal with the bunnies, and here’s why: angora rabbits* grow hair at the rate of 1″ per month and this hair grows over every square inch of their bodies. They do not groom themselves like cats. The hair grows just as fast over their genital area as the rest of their bodies. Bunny poop sticks to bunny hair. As the hair gets longer, a condition that angora owners refer to as “poopy butt” can (and will at a remarkably fast rate, like within hours) develop. To prevent this problem, the hair around their genital area must be clipped short on a regular basis. If it is not and poopy butt develops, within hours on some occasions, an enterprising female fly will find the dirty bunny and lay her eggs, and I’m sure you can imagine the horrors that quickly develop from there.

Okay. Gross bunny lesson over. M does not know how to properly clip and clean the bunnies, and he’s never actually seen the male bunny’s (his name is Steve) uh…”goods” and so does not know the care that must be taken to avoid slashing a hole in Steve’s vulnerable nut sack, making my presence essential to the health and well-being of the rabbits. The female is named Snowball, just to keep everyone up to speed.

I arrived when I said I would and M was out on the porch. First words out of his mouth were about how good I looked and that he could take care of the rabbits later – why don’t we go get naked? I did not puke, but my stomach came dangerously close to the back of my throat. I mean, really? Sex is going to solve our problems? Did he think I was coming over for a Booty Call? Obviously he did.

After disabusing him of that notion, repeating myself at least three times, he visibly deflated. “Here comes the next phase,” I thought. Sure enough, now it’s quivering voice and crocodile tears and declarations about how much pain he’s in and blah, blah, blah.

I deflected his advances, refuted his assertions that I was the cause of much of his abusive behavior and went outside to take care of the rabbits. He, of course, joined me, asking a few pertinent questions (yes, I know Snowball is the one with the messy butt, but I don’t want to be humped by Steve because I smell like Lady Bunny, so I’m clipping him first) and said that he understood what I was saying when I told him that every conversation between us is a war that he is determined to win.

Wash, rinse, repeat. You’ve heard it all here before. Same shit, different day, with the only difference being that I stuck to my guns and kept repeating that I did not have to agree with him about anything, that I have the right to express my opinion, he doesn’t have to like it, but it’s my right to express myself without the fear of reprisals, etc. It was like talking to a belligerent two-year-old. Sigh.

I finally got out of there (it felt like three years, but was only 2 hours later) and headed off to see the ladies at the shop for knitting and bitching. As always, they were sympathetic and I was able to shake off M’s crud and feel like myself again.**

A little later the following arrived via e-mail. Subject line, “So good to see you:”

Good to see you today. You look fabulous and stir all my passions, as you always have.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through my head. I want you to know, no matter how I might respond to you, I am listening. Right now, with your anger, it’s hard to not be defensive. I know that if I am to discard some wrong behavior I need to get past the pain of your accusations and take them to heart.

When I ask you if you are coming back, I don’t mean today or tomorrow, but sometime – I can wait as long as it takes, if you intend the best for both of us in the end. In that case I will work toward the same. But if you intend to separate from me for good, I need to come to terms with that now. It will not work for me to hope for your return for a year or even more, always wishing for you to come back, only to find you have moved on.

You probably can’t answer that question now, but it would help if you have any positive thoughts to share.

I’ve been a very bad person to have made you feel so insignificant and defensive. I hope you understand that was never my intention, though it’s painfully clear how I’ve done that. I commit to doing what it takes to grow and learn and hope you might commit with me to improve our relationship. I understand that means for you to be able to come from a position of strength.

Your ever-loving man

Oh, whatever! Nowhere in this silly note or our conversation yesterday did he admit that he’s an abusive man. At no time did he say that he accepts that HE is the cause of our problems, that no one can “make” him behave abusively towards me or anyone else. At no time did he admit that I have every right to leave and find happiness away from his abuse. He continues to say that we share the blame equally for how our relationship turned out. When I said, “what I should have done was call you on  your bullshit ten years ago and we wouldn’t be where we are today,” he froze and I could see the wheels clicking around in his head as he tried to find a way to turn it back on me. Everything is my fault in his mind. If only I would [fill in the blank here] we would be fine.

Circles, circles and more circles, all going nowhere. He is not ready to make any changes and will keep trying to surround me with F.O.G. until he gets what he wants. Ain’t gonna happen!

Sabu is feeling better today and yesterday made me quite proud – M wanted her to sit at his feet and be petted, but she made it very clear that I am her person and he is just a guy she used to know 🙂

* Angoras are a man-made breed, first bred (as far as anyone can discover) in monasteries in the mountains France in the 1700’s. They live outside in wire-bottomed cages, which some people take issue with, but they can’t have solid floors or their fur quickly gets matted with feces and just from the friction of the floor. Their hair is fairly delicate and methods of raising them are well established. They (at least these two) are NOT PETS. They have never lived inside (it would be too warm for them under any but the most harsh circumstances) or been litter box trained, or had a large space to exercise in.

They are livestock, raised for their hair which I trim off with scissors every 90 days and spin into yarn or dye and sell to others to spin into yarn or use for other fiber arts. Because they need special care compared to other types of rabbit, it’s not easy to find a new home for them – I will not let them go to some kid who wants to try rabbits for awhile or to some person who thinks they are “cute” and wants to have them in her house as mobile dust catchers because the would quickly get matted and that’s not the responsible thing to do.

I’m still looking for a new place for them and if they were younger it would be easier, but they are well beyond breeding age (Steve would sure like to try, though!) and their wool production is decreasing, so they are not desirable to someone with a money-making (as if!) rabbitry. They are about 85 in human years to give  you an idea of their age 🙂 It’s a difficult situation. They need to be outside, protected from rain and wind and predators, and I don’t have a place to keep them secure at the moment, but they are physically fine at M’s house.

That I have to deal with him because of the bunnies is a situation I knew would likely arise and I will deal with it until the buns die a natural death or I can find a new home for them. I know that it gives M false hope every time he sees me that I will come back, but ya know, he gave me false hope that I had found my Prince Charming, so a little bit of payback is in order, dontcha think? He lied to me for years, and continues to do so. Why not pay him back in kind?

Cruel? Dangerous? Yes and yes, but I don’t expect it to go on for long and it just makes me stronger. And it’s not like he has any REAL feelings, it’s all an act, so the hardest thing for him to accept after I give him the final Fuck You will be that he wasted his time with me when he could have been out looking for his next victim. There’s a bit of poetic justice for you 🙂

** Not really related, but earlier in the day I was at Wal-Mart and walked by a display freezer that had frozen alcoholic drinks inside. Handy pouches filled with Pina Coladas, Daiquiris, etc, all ready to pour and drink. At only $1.98 you know I had to try one. Delicious! Not as much alcohol in it as I was hoping for, but a perfect end to a rough day nonetheless 🙂 No, I’m not drinking every day, but once in awhile a little drink does help me sleep better.