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I am very, very tired now.
Up until 1 a.m. is not a good idea for me when Mondays are concerned. My alarm startled me out of sound sleep this morning. No amount of glaring at it made it go away, though. Monday morning arrived, despite my efforts otherwise.
I�ve actually been very productive today, though. Perhaps it was the anticipation of JCAHO�s arrival in the department. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I�m taking Thursday and Friday off. Regardless, I�ve gotten lots of things accomplished.
Well, at least up until the last few minutes. Now I�m just feeling tired.
I just got a call from the administrative assistant to the VP of HR. She called me, mind you. I picked up the phone and said, �Good afternoon, Mr. M�s office,� and got back a �Hi�who�s this?�
So very, very impolite.
Anyway�
We got the proposal from Vinwood this morning. They came in just under the per person limit we�d set. My mom is happy. We�re done with the caterer search. This is very good news. I�m quite happy with the menu we put together, Mom is satisfied with the price, and it�s one more thing we can check off the list. List is getting shorter all the time.
I�ve come to the conclusion that just as people say that the 9 months while you�re pregnant give you time to adjust to the thought of having a baby, the time you spend engaged is less about the planning and more about learning how to live with each other. Or, at least, how to modify yourself in order to live together. And I don�t mean �modify� as in change or lessen yourself. Modification is not necessarily a bad thing. My becoming a better communicator is definitely not a bad thing. But it�s certainly a necessary one. I can�t expect him to just magically know how I feel about something. And as I said to Carla earlier, it�s one of the things I always faulted the Artboy on. You�d think I would have learned by now. I�m not entirely transparent. And if you want someone to know what you�re thinking without your spelling it out for them, you should at least give them the clues to look for in the first place.
So when I called my mom this morning to tell her about the catering info, she asked me if Chris had been drinking when we came in yesterday. I confirmed that he had. She asked me if he drinks alone in the apartment like that all the time. I confirmed that he does. Now, she�s on a we-need-to-get-Chris-help-because-I-think-he�s-an-alcoholic train. I understand the thought process. I�ve driven that train myself. But I don�t know how to help someone who not only repeatedly rejects your offers of help but also actually repeatedly insists there�s nothing there to be helped.
It�s sad that I�ve become so used to Chris�s being like this that it didn�t phase me at all yesterday, that I hardly noticed the glass on the counter, the empty bottle near the sink.
I am home so little. He�s home so much.
I really don�t know what to do about it, though. I can�t be Chris�s savior. Only he can do that. And it won�t be on my terms.
Time to go home. �Cause I�m sounding so upbeat.
Funny thing, I�m really not all depressed. I�m PMSing and headachy, but other than that, I�m really fine.
And I�m not just not communicating my needs. I really mean that.
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