We've been back from Michigan for nine days. About nine MINUTES into our return, Ned had unpacked and put his suitcase away nicely. I don't even know where his suitcase lives. In his closet? Unsure.
Hey. I'm unpacked, at least. I think. Lemme open that thing and check.
...Okay, there was one pair of leopard underwear that I just threw in the laundry. I like leopard underwear. I feel very Mrs. Robinson. The point is, I'm not a suitcase put away-er. It's WEDGED in my TEENSY closet, because 1926 house. So it's a real pain to get in there and out of there. Sometimes I miss my 1950 house that I actually own, with its giant walk-in closet someone must have created at some point that wasn't 1950.
The point is, are you neat or tidy? I am decidedly not tidy, although I like my workspace clean. I cannot do the whole, "Oh, it's a mess but I know where everything is" routine.
Anyway, I gotta get to work. I stayed till 7:00 last night, and 6:30 the night before. If you know me in real life and you try to contact me, I may not answer you till midmonth, so DON'T PRESSURE ME OH MY GOD. Last night I was a lifeless lump on the couch when I finally got home, and Ned knows how busy I am right now, but he was still all, "Hey, tomorrow do you wanna do this?" I don't know, Ned, because work. I told you there'd be work.
"What about next week. Can you do this?"
OH MY GOD I DON'T KNOW WITH THE PRESSURE ALREADY.
Do you know what it is? For me, having a full calendar of activities ahead of me is my idea of hell. I feel like having a calendar devoid of activities is Ned's idea of hell. Also, eating dinner at 6:00 is Ned's idea of hell, and just beginning to think about where to go to dinner at 8:00 is mine. Honest to god, it'll be 8:00, and Ned will say, "Have you eaten?"
Have I eaten. What am I, from Madrid? Of COURSE I've eaten. But Ned works till the middle of the night and then always always ALWAYS goes to the FUCKING gym, so he doesn't get home till then. I guess he thinks I'm just hanging out, not eating, till he finally shows up in the dark of night.
It's these stupid differences that can drive you to distraction in a relationship.
Oh hell, I have to go. Everyone tell me not only if you are neat and tidy, but also what you do when you're stressed to the gills. My gills are stressed.
Edsel's pretty stressed, too.
