Dear Rob Blogwriter,
It has come to my attention that you are not appropriately utilizing the education credited to you during your stay at our fine learning facility. Having read through your blog, I am disappointed to discover a blatant disregard for Interpersonal Communications 205 training. Convinced of your lackadaisical attitude, it is my duty to inform you that we will be retracting your completion credit for this class. Subsequently, you will need to retake the course if you wish to re-graduate. In the interim, we will need you to return your diploma, and tassel. If you refuse to return said tassel, a $25 fee will be added to your student loan.
Good luck with your hopeless future!
Fondest regards,
R. Ferguson
Director Of Communications
Ok, they really aren't retracting my diploma, but that's just because they don't know yet. They don't know that although I jumped through every flaming hoop and passed every BS class, I failed to utilize their real world curriculum. If they knew about my marriage, they would never have let me pass Interpersonal Communications. Clearly I cannot communicate.
Tonight was a great example.
Knock knock
Who's there?
Summer.
Summer who?
Summer nobody, I'm just telling you it's hot out here.
Yup, summer came a'knockin' today in the great Inland Empire. That's what they call us. "Inland Empire." Like we've got the size or power to invade your region if we just weren't so darn apathetic. LA knows better. They call us the "IE." Of course LA is so pretentious they even use initials to describe themselves. But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, summer.
We were in the mid 90s today; I kept the house closed up. It was still cool inside from yesterday's mid 80s. But we went out for dinner tonight, and when we came back, the place was a mini sauna.
Since it had cooled down outside, I opened the doors and windows, trying to cool the place down before MyWife went to bed. I failed. As she gets up from her computer she says, "I'm going to bed. If it's still 90 degrees in there I'm going to turn the air on."
"Ok." I'm immune to sarcasm. It only feeds me my dark powers.
Still, I am a bit resentful that she thinks it's so hot that she needs to turn on the air. Our summer electric bill can range from $350-$600 depending on the price of energy in a given year. You know as well as I do, this is looking like a $600 year, so I'm trying to hold out as long as I can.
Yes I know. A whole chorus section of readers just bound to their feet shouting "That's why she's divorcing you!" Maybe you're right, but I'm thinking she would have caught on to this while we were living in the desert together. If this were the reason, I'd have never seen the whites of the pastor's eyes.
I didn't complain. I let it go. I grumbled a bit into my goatee, but I know she needs it cool to sleep. And she's much easier to deal with when she's slept. So I remained silent. She goes in, and comes back out a few minutes later.
"I wanted to let you know, it was set at 67[that was for the heater], I turned it up to 79."
My mouth said, "Sure, sounds good." but my brain was screaming "79? Are you crazy?" 79 at the thermostat really equates to 77 throughout the house. I don't set the AC any lower than 81.
Yes, I know now everybody not from the Southwest is frothing at the mouth. Suddenly I'm abusive too. "Why so hot?" It's not hot. Not when the average daily temperature is 94.
Really?
No, I just made that up to make a point. It's not that hot, but it should be, because then I'd be right. It got up to 115 last year, and yeah, I turned on the AC.
But 81 is fine in California. It's a dry heat, and it's just warm enough for the ceiling fan to keep you cool without giving you a chill. 79? That's gonna leave a mark. Chances are you're gonna catch a cold. And what's worse, I can see the electricity meter spinning like a pinwheel in a tornado from here.
Now I have a choice. In the past, after I nodded and smiled, when she went to bed, I'd turn the thermostat back up to where it belonged. Now, I don't know. Maybe I should let it go. Let it suck what's left of or savings so that when she leaves, there's cold emptiness in our banking account. Sure, I know, it's my savings too, but I'm Scottish, I have a long heritage of spite to uphold, and what better time to be spiteful than in a divorce? Yeah, I know, I promised to play nice, but this is just passive aggressive spite; it never hurt anybody.
My other choice is I can continue to play the asshole, and turn it back up. Then let her set her thermostat to 79 after she leaves, then she'll see what electricity costs!
Harumph!
This isn't the first time we've played this game. We're actually quite good at it. If there were a Passive Aggressive Olympics, we'd be gold and silver winners every year. Without chemical enhancement.
Shortly after we married we did the same thing all newly weds try and fail to do: work out a budget to everyone's satisfaction. This is a field of true compromise. If you can come up with a way to pay bills that works for everyone, then you're 3 steps ahead of the pack, and the rest of us hate you.
One of the first things we tried was keeping our money in separate accounts, and splitting the bills evenly. It didn't matter "Whose" bills they were, just so that the balances were equal. Don't worry, we didn't last long enough at this approach to see that inherent flaw.
I also knew one of her goals was to buy a house. So when I split the bills, I included a chunk of money from my split to go for savings. I told her what I was doing, and she either wasn't listening or she was ok with it. I found the answer later one day, when she came at me with a deposit slip drawn like a knife.
"What the hell is this?"
"What?" Nope, there's no feigning that kind of ignorance, it's pure and natural.
"All this money in the account?"
"It's savings." We didn't have an actual savings account. We were still cave people. If we didn't sleep on a waterbed, we'd have probably kept all our money in the mattress.
"What savings?"
So I repeated what I'd already told her—at this point—two years earlier. For some reason she didn't believe I was saving it for a house. She thought I was hoarding it for myself. What was I going to do with this mystery stash? I have no idea, but she was convinced it had nothing to do with her.
So what could she do to make sure I didn't have that money for a house with my invisible lover? She'd spend it.
Yup, and not on anything big or important. I think she'd have bought bubble gum with it if she could have found enough in one place. I really don't remember how she spent it. I do remember how much she spent: $3,000. yeah, I counted the zeros correctly. I cried when I counted them back then. But she went on such a pissy tirade, that it didn't matter what I said, so I gave up and said nothing. I figured, if that's what she wanted to do, then we can just wait a little longer for a house. I let her spend every penny. And when it was gone, I never pitched in for "house savings" again.
Of course neither did she, and that was the eventual problem. Luckily I'm pretty resourceful when I need to be, and I was prepared in other respects. We made the down payment. I just may never regain my dignity...
But see, if I hadn't just locked up, if I'd have fought the futile fight, maybe I wouldn't have closed the door. Maybe we'd still be together, because all the doors of communication between us would be open. Isn't that what's important? I don't know anymore, I'm too busy trying to fight my passive aggressive side.
So, Mr. Ferguson, if you want to retract my diploma, go ahead. I'll even give you your stupid tassel. But one thing you failed to teach us in class is that some times it doesn't matter what you say, it's what the listener hears, and when the line is cut, you can sing their silent praises and they'll never hear..
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