The Claytons Ending

Sheesh!  Just when I figure the whole tent thing is finished, it rears its ugly head again!   What would I do without that tent?  How would I blog?  Surely my well of blogging fodder would dry up!  I’d be forced to blog about normal stuff!

And when all is said and done, I’m not even that fond of camping...  Its okay, but I can’t say it’s my first choice on holidaying ideas, that’s for sure!  Bugs the size of pterodactyls abound and even worse, there is this constant “dirty” feel that no amount of showering can improve, which really goes against my serial killer neatness.  But this was never about the tent; it was always about the principal.

So even as the tent shunk into the background, it managed to retain a glimmer of light as the Harridan continued to make threats to take action over her enforced “purchase” of the tent.  Frankly, I could almost wish that she would go that far since she seems to need someone other than the Squeeze to tell her you can’t just steal someone’s property – even if you were once married to the other person.  Marriage does not equal “open slather on their stuff until they are DEAD!”

And then last night, kid 2 sends a text with the one word that has become the Goodyear Blimp of blog silage.  He is off for a weekend concert and seeking a tent to go camping with so sends a query to the Squeeze to ask if he can borrow the tent.

The Squeeze returns with a ‘tongue in cheek’ “ask your mother”.  A minute or two delay and the kid comes back with “she says she doesn’t have it.”

Now this has my curiosity blazing.  Because she would revel in her ability to martyr up and be the one that races in, Joan of Arc style, to provide a tent for the kid and his gal – even at the risk of the kid, knowing the true ownership, hands it back to him.  That she doesn’t is the first real indication that she no longer has the tent.

So...  What the hell did she do with it? 

And curiosity gives way to amusement because if she is truly so damned spiteful that she has given the tent away; or even better, has tossed it in the backyard and used it as a sacrificial bonfire to dance around – then the fact that he has made her purchase the thing must be making her eyes bleed!

Waiting; Like a Big... Black... Spider

The other week in blog land, I stated that I was scratching for fodder to blog about.   Not that the relationship is perfect (show me one that is)...  It’s just that I didn’t have a lot in the way of major drama, going on.  I had the girl/muppet saga and then we had the Squeeze's boy 2 and his albeit brief foray into the world of turning Muslim; but we had reached a plateau in regards to the Harridan. 

Somewhat weirdly; she has become no more than sporadic twinge in our relationship.   I still get to feel my anger/vexation/astonishment rocket at regular intervals; given her delusions regarding finances or her sending outrageous orders and/or insults via phonetic text message; but the blood boiling is a swift eruption and just as swift an ending.

And as much as I love my blog, I have to be careful what I wish for...  I am under no illusions as to her style of mischief and I have acknowledged in my head that it will continue forever; for as long as the Squeeze and I are an item and alive at least.  In some ways, it is as though while sitting in her attic spinning a web, she shudders to life with the realisation that she hasn’t stage-managed trouble for at least a couple of weeks – so gets busy spinning.

Stupidly, I’m not as good at game playing and so it actually does work to some extent.  Yes; I know I should get over it or not bother about it – but I don’t appear to be capable of that.  And I kind of feel annoyed that I'm the one that has to be the "bigger person"!  I mean this weekend seemed innocent enough for at least 3 seconds, but it defies logic so doesn’t stand up as anything other than annoying stalker type behaviour.

We were at the Regent Theatre awaiting staff to open the doors to the seating for the Ryan Adam’s concert.  Expectations were high, we were dressed nicely...  It was our Christmas present to each other so something of a date night.  This is when the Harridan called – 8pm on a Saturday night.

The Squeeze pressed reject immediately; partly I’m ashamed to admit, in fear that it would annoy me and therefore disrupt the equilibrium of our ‘date’. 

Although I suggest that this may have been his reasoning for rejecting the call, that doesn’t necessarily mean that this is the case.  In fact I did no more than raise my brow curiously and when she called again and he rejected, mention that perhaps he should just answer the thing.  We hadn’t moved into the auditorium as yet and there was always the rare chance that it was actually important. 

But no; he prefers not to speak to her when I am around.  This is possibly due to my “tsks!” or the rolling of my eyes that go with hearing him attempt to speak ‘reason’ to her; but quite probably around his inability to raise his voice while attempting to speak ‘reason’ to her, given where we were.

To highlight the importance of the repeat phoning, she leaves no voicemail so whatever it is that she wants, it is obviously not Earth shattering.  Instead, she sends a text to say ‘is boy1 ok’. 

That is it.  A pretty good hook if you were in sales.  That would have me calling and questioning what the hell is going on.  Still, he is more of an expert on her than I and replies “is as far as I know” and then turns his phone off.  He mentions to me “she probably called him and he didn’t answer...”

He checks when we gets home and there is nothing further from her.  Nor is there any communiqué throughout the next day – nothing.  It was just the Harridan and her moment of being a Telstra commercial (look at me, look at me, look at me, look at me...) and my anger shot to the roof again because when all is said and done, it was just so utterly pointless!

Late in the day, the Squeeze and I argue.  He has spoken to the kid and he is alive.  In fact, he has been off with 'mummy dearest' during the day; so what exactly was the drama supposedly about?  And what information did she expect to get from the Squeeze; given that we live on the other side of town... None of the kids live with us and we would be lucky to see Boy 1 once a month!  And the answer to that is ‘zip’.  This was no more than a little ‘remember me..?’ prod.

From there, I suggested he follow up with a text to state that from now on when seeking information about the boys, that it would be prudent to actually call them!  He does in fact send this but cops an instantaneous tirade of abuse along the lines of “fekwit.  U dont care! its like u r dead...”

Of course I want to reply for him with a: “as far as you are concerned, I am!” but the Squeeze won’t go for that. 

He prefers the “ignore” way; which would be fantastic if I could just manage to do that...

Romance - Zip

Sitting in the 2nd row at the Regent Theatre awaiting Ryan Adams. No romance yet; unless you count him rejecting a call from the Harridan!

Wonderwall

Tonight we are off for our "Christmas Present" to each other... 

Ryan Adams at the Regent Theatre.  I can't wait! 

Ryan Adams is significant to our relationship.  The Squeeze once sent me a song of his for my birthday...   Given that he is a dilettante in the art of romance; I cried.

It was one of the 5 times (at least) during his "procrastination stage".  Where he had dumped me because it was going to be too hard to ‘man up’ and stand up to the Harridan – and I wasn’t the type to sit meekly in the background and leave some utter shrew to dictate the rest of how my life went.

This ought to be interesting!

Close to You

Today we get say goodbye to another Leap Year and celebrate the fact that I’m not stupid enough to propose to the idiot I live with.

Although I remain unengaged as intended, I did somehow manage to keep the ember of ‘proposal fear’ burning in the Squeeze until after 11pm when I got bored with the whole idea and basically just fell asleep.

It’s not like I threw a cup of petrol on that ember, but I did give it the odd poke and blow a bit of air on it throughout the night.  I made reference to champagne at the movies a few times while we were on the way and to my delight, this bought a resurgence of R.E.S (rat eye syndrome – eyes sliding from side to side and I can almost hear the voice in his head chanting “let me out let me out let me out.”)

I also came in the door from work singing “Close to You”.  Granted; this may have had more effect if I’d had a Rick Moranis moment (from Parenthood) and entered the room on my knees singing the old Carpenters hit...  Maybe a wilted little bunch of wild flowers in my hand... But frankly, I don’t think my knees would have been up to the job and it’s hard to look sophisticated while groping for something to heave yourself off the floor with...  No glamour in that!

I’d already had to say on the drive to the movies “that’s it.  I’m not proposing to you anymore!  You’re too damned annoying!” after a banking mishap.  This saw a glimmer of relief cross his face prior to him shutting it down and hoping I hadn’t seen it...  At one point during the movie, I poked around in my bag and pulled out a piece of paper before tapping his hand and saying “are you ready... for the ring...?”  His laughter upon discovery that it was merely a piece of paper was a little hysterical and I’m sure he actually mopped at his brow after.

Still; he made it through.  Unscathed.  Unengaged.  And even more strangely, un-dumped.

And this morning I paused for at least one tenth of a second to wonder why I hadn’t proposed.  I was getting ready for work; putting makeup on in the bathroom mirror.  He wrapped his arms around me from behind and mentioned that boxing was really paying off as he could feel that I’d lost weight and it was actually visible. 

Then he ruined the whole damned thing by saying “at least front on” and then moved into the danger zone by doing this insulting hand shaping thing to show me that I was obviously looking like a pregnant rhino from the side view; just in case I had misunderstood his words.

No wonder I’m not ever proposing to the fool!