I come home from work and turn toward the garage only to find Sticks’ car parked behind it. Have to get Sticks, make him move the car, park the Prius, close the door, so he can then park behind it again so that I can’t get out to take the daughter to dance class. Make him drive.
Ask him how his work/school day was, get the answer “Fine.” I dare to ask if he’s finalized his speech class which he had and then had to bump when he was drafted into an Improv class at the same time. I get the one-grunt answer which means to shut up and mind my own business and don’t dare ask again. Nervy of him.
Sticks leaves for 7pm rehearsal after a two-word dinner. Eldest asks us if we’ve heard that Sticks is going to get collaborative credit and $$$ for two book projects he’s been working on. Says Sticks told him about it when he picked him up from work. I say no, we only get two-word answers, sometimes just two-grunt answers.
I’m pissed, a little hurt, actually. Am I just the meal ticket and human alarm clock for the deepest sleeper on the planet? I can understand not sharing bad news, but why hold back the good news?
Lately I feel like everything spins out around me and I am the spindle that holds the foundation in its place, just sort of marking time until maybe there’s a place for us to have a life instead of sort of revolving in and out the door to work and back again so we can work some more. Especially when the reward for it is grunty silence and the hoarding of good news, as if we are somehow not entitled to hear it. There’s too much sullenness, secrecy and cynicism around the house right now. You know, like when you feel in your gut that you’re being BS’d every day but don’t have proof? That kind of environment. One that hasn’t existed here until lately. I don’t like it.
Which one of us is cranky?
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…living life in 19/7 time 
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