Dear god I just quoted A Flock of Seagulls. *hangs head in shame*
Yep I ran away from home last night. I am thirty... almost-damned three... years old, and I ran away from home.
As for the reason, well, it's even dumber. I was trying to clean up the house some, because we're having company today. I was also trying to do laundry, because I didn't want to have wet clothes hanging all over the house to dry when company was here so I had to do it yesterday. I guess I should explain. Designated Hitter doesn't let me dry anything except socks and underwear. Pants, shorts, shirts, even grubby working-in-the-yard t-shirts have to be hung to dry. Seriously. He has this one shirt he got from a small seed company. If I had a nickel for every time he has bitched about what a bunch of assholes this seed company was, I could move out and support myself just on the interest alone. He wears this shirt when he gets all sweaty and muddy and grassy... and then he throws it in the washer, and then that shirt is too valuable to throw in the dryer. It must be carefully hung up to dry. Yanno so it doesn't shrink. That shirt could be the cause of our divorce.
Well, since we moved to the country and got ourselves a septic system, I can't use liquid fabric softener in the washer anymore cuz it fucks up the decomposition of the shit in the septic tank (seriously, did anyone want to know that?! I didn't) so in order to make our clothes not all stiff and wrinkly and scratchy, I've been tossing them into the dryer for about 12 minutes with a dryer sheet and then taking them out and hanging them to finish drying. They aren't in the dryer long enough to shrink, but they do soften up and de-wrinkle in that time.
So, I'm doing laundry yesterday. And I'm cleaning house. First load of laundry comes out of the washer and goes into the dryer. Kitchen timer set for 12 minutes. I go to vacuum. I'm off in the bedroom vacuuming when the timer goes off, I don't hear it. Apparently timer shuts itself off after a bit, because when I turn vacuum off the house is silent. I didn't think a think of it, went on to do some other things, and like 45 minutes later went "oh shit!" I ran into the laundry room and yep, there was the dryer still tumbling away with a load of dark clothes inside, fully dry. I take everything out and hang it all up and mostly I'm not too terribly worried cuz Hitter was outside and I've dried a few shirts all the way before and he's never noticed, but then I pull out a pair of blue dress pants. *sigh* I flipped 'em upside down and hung them up like I'm supposed to, and then compared them to two pair of khaki colored pants that were already hanging there... and they were somewhat shorter.
I panicked.
I didn't have the courage to tell Hitter what I did. I couldn't handle the coming lecture and/or look of disappointment. Just didn't have it in me. He was outside mowing lawn at the time and I saw him get in the truck and drive off (I suspect he was fulfilling Gas Fairy duties) so I wrote a note that explained the vacuuming and the timer and the short pants and I apologized like 5 times and twice swore it was an accident, and I loaded Muppy up in Marvin (ooooh I haven't explained Marvin yet... that's my car) and took off. Didn't know where I was going, just left. Unfortunately I met Hitter in the driveway, he pulled over (one-lane-driveway) and unrolled his window to talk to me, and I didn't even look him in the eyes, just raced past and took off.
He texted me and said he wasn't mad, please come back. I drove for a while, and then eventually texted him back and said I couldn't handle the disappointment either. He wrote me back and said something about accidents happen, just come back. I drove for a while longer. Then I realized I was lost. Okay our roads around here do NOT go straight. I'm not originally from this state, but my parents did go to college here and their best friends are from here too (not here as in this town, here as in this state) so Designated Drinker has a lot of first-hand knowledge of what goes on around here. And he's always said the way our DOT makes new roads is to just find the nearest hillbilly and put him in a blacktopper machine with a case of beer and tell him to drive around for a while. If there's a tree, go around it.
I was seriously lost. Thank goodness the sun was still up because I knew I'd left home heading west so as long as I kept the sun behind me, I should eventually end up somewhere near home. Or in a river. Either way, I'd know where I was then.
I'm still a little twitchy, I cried over supper last night. Hitter gets all "but I'm trying to get better and not fly off the handle" and I tell him that I've been hurt so bad so many times that I don't trust him anymore. The whole episode with the root beer on vacation kind of put me over the edge. Oh crap I didn't tell that story either. Well, short version, I accidentally sprayed root beer on one cabinet and a bit on the floor of the kitchen in the cabin his sister rents for the week. RENTS, not owns. B.F.D. I wiped it up, Sis was all "no big deal", Hitter comes unglued on me like I'd burned the place down and killed half his family in the process. Over a little root beer on the floor. Good lord. Everything's a catastrophe with that man. And I'm at the end of my rope. *sigh*
Sorry this wasn't funny and didn't have any cute pictures. I'm not feeling very funny or cute right now but I needed to vent this shit.
No comments:
Post a Comment