Whiny

[May 10, 2010]

I'm sick and tired of doing all the work. This semi bedrest business is a bee-otch of the highest order. Carey is easily exhausted, irritable, whiny, and occasionally demanding. We tried to see Iron Man 2 with our friends Chad and Angie Friday night. Carey worked six hours that day and we had to hit the movie right after her work. She complained almost relentlessly before and after the movie. I think the problem was we didn't get a proper dinner. Fridays are stressful at her work anyway. We had some people save us places in line for the Imax experience. Carey sat down by the concession while we stood and waited for the doors to open. We got snacks (Carey insisted we pay for them since C & H bought our tickets) and she was there when the food was being ordered but when we got to our seats she asked where was her water. So I had to trudge back through the narrow row stepping on people's purses and feet to get the damn water. Then when I got back she said, "You missed the A-Team preview. Why are you so tense?" After the show she repeated over and over about how this was too much for her blah, blah blah. We won't be going out on weeknights, perhaps ever again. The first few weeks of doing everything I could deal with. And Carey was really grateful. Every meal I didn't ruin was a treat. But now she's getting nit-picky. And she doesn't communicate all the details of creating a multiple step dinner. Last night she laid on the couch (her downstairs station) while she instructed me on how to make a particular meal. I fucking hate cooking. But I've been good about it until lately. I'm back in the mental state where if it's up to me I inadvertently make the wrong choices. She said fry some garlic in a pan. Turned out I needed a large pan. I asked what I should prep before I cook. She left out the part about chopping up the sausage. I spent forever on that stupid meal. It sucked, took a long time to make, and then was over in like seven minutes. This morning I made her oatmeal with sliced up mangoes and maple syrup. In order to not accidentally mangle her breakfast, I brought her up all the different individual parts. Bowl of oatmeal, scored mango, soy milk, maple syrup. Apparently I had scored the mango into too big of chunks. And there was too much oatmeal in the bowl. She wanted only half the amount so that there could be some the next day. It's true she is a food snob of monumental proportions, but cut me some slack! That same day when I was trying to find the oatmeal she was lying in bed on the phone yakking it up with one of her mothers. I brought up this container with like an eighth of an inch of oatmeal in it with raisins. Are we out? I mouthed. She waved me off and told me the oatmeal is in the freezer. Which it was. Later she informed me, "You know that container you showed me that you thought was oatmeal with raisins?" I looked at her. "That was muesli!" I continued to look at her. She thought this was hysterical! How could anyone be so stupid as to mix up oatmeal with 18 remaining crumbs of muesli? I threw out the damn muesli. In her defense, as an independent person who excels at cooking, it must suck to have to rely on joe-dipshit-in-the-kitchen to prepare your food all the time. She likes her food a certain way. I don't blame her. I'm just tired of learning all nine billion different variations on ten trillion different dishes. I guess whiny is contagious.