An indicator of how my grumpiness still lingers is that I've just eaten not one but two pieces of chocolate before noon. I was doing better after showering at the gym, since I'm now friendly with most of the trainers, and it's good to see them every morning. The gay guy had told me a story of this one old man who works out there and how his jock strap is yellow with no elastic and basically does nothing. Well, that guy was working some machine and his shorts had fallen down a little so you could see the band (no, not the horn and cymbals, but the elastic band). I made sure to show it to the gay guy, who found it very hot of course. And showed me his!
Anyways, yesterday seemed like all would be well. My ex had asked me to bring his change to my bank for free sorting and conversion to bills. Not a problem. I like being helpful. And it just so happened that he was out and about later in the day and was willing to stop at a HVAC store only open until 5:00 to pick up a 7" to 8" transition for me (for my vent in the kitchen to the outside). How nice of both of us.
Yet, later when I stopped by, things went sour. I will freely admit that it's my fault, mostly or all. When I'm in that house, I still get too comfortable sometimes. And it's not mine. He lives there. He owns it. It's just I put so much into it. Anyways, so I see the piles of wrapping paper behind a door that I had forgotten to take some of. "You don't want this Big Bird paper, right. I'm taking it." And he retorts that everything in the house is his and I should ask. Or something like that. It was like a slap in the face. Likely which I needed, but boy did I get pissed off. We have not had time to go through the rest of the tools, and I was there partly to get photos off the computer that I didn't have yet.
And most importantly, we haven't gone through the wedding photos. I pulled out the albums and noted that those are OURS and we have yet to split them and just because they are in HIS house does not mean that they are HIS. I made the mistake of saying that I'd make photocopies of the black and white album and give them to him, and that I'd give him the color album back and make copies for myself.
It's a huge mistake. I looked through them this morning. The black and white was made by a friend and I already said I had wanted it. But I put some much effort into that color album. It's the best photos of everyone who took photos and tells the whole story of the wedding day. Copies would not do it justice. So, now I don't know what to suggest. And I'm pissed at myself for yet again taking on the responsibility for something when it should at least be shared. Dumbass me. I feel like holding them hostage, but should not do that.
I was 36 when I married. I really looked beautiful, if I do say so myself. I look so happy, and it's weird to look at. Because even back then I knew things weren't right. I might have been happy to have such a great party, because it was. Everyone said it was the best they'd been to. Relaxed and fun. We had it on a farm and the kids could pick all the berries they wanted, we had BBQ, and we had a hay ride and got stuck, and the pig escaped, and we had a bonfire, and dancing. And more. I actually posted a photo from it way back. Here.
Anyways, while I can't say I'm regretting the chocolate I just scarfed, I certainly should have made a better choice. And I suppose I should get to work. It might be a closed door day, else I bite someone's head off. It's partly a need for adjustment of medication, I know that too, and I'm going Monday for the next phase. I wonder if the fact that I decided to stop taking my blood pressure medication has anything to do with it?? (I was pissed - the dr's office would only give me 30 days because they said I needed to come it and I'm not going to be held hostage by them...fuck 'em).
So, what do I do about the photos?