Argument

Dear Argument,

Well welcome back.  Written text doesn't necessarily convey emotion, so let me spell it out for you: I say this begrudgingly.


Though, to be fair, I'm thinking that this letter might be mis-titled.  Because, the hubbie and I didn't really have an argument per se, as I just made known a few things more than a few that I was frustrated about and limited discussion ensued.  This is usually how it goes - we're not really a fighting couple so much as a Julie-emotes-dynamically-and-Kyle-reacts-and-responds-kinda-couple.

This works sometimes.

And sometimes it doesn't.  


like tonight


So as a natural response to a situation where I feel I have no control and that generally makes me feel guilty and hurt, I do what any God-fearing wife and upstanding citizen would do: I get productive.

That's right people.  Don't let this late hour (11:48 p.m. CST) fool you: I'm getting things done and I. am. in. control.  Running the dishwasher (maybe twice as there's another pile of dishes in the "staging area"). Washing the winter coats that have needed it for two years.  Processing the applesauce I cooked last week.  Cooking lunch for the rest of the week. Preparing a package to send to Laurel.

And blogging about it.

All whilst having to precariously hoist myself over the dishwasher that, because it's portable, must sit in the doorway from the kitchen to the pantry when running so as to be hooked up to the sink.

Oh yes people, there were obstacles, but I overcame them.  Because I am in control.


Now, since you're all very intelligent blog-worldians, I'm sure you've already guessed that I'm going to make some meaningful conclusion about how I'm actually not in control, and I'm merely engaging in these excessive, solitary, late-night activities to allow myself some semblance of control because I'm feeling guilty and angry and not-in-control of this whole marriage thing.

Well, I have news for you.

You're right.

Except I'm not.

Going to write about it, that is.  Let's be real: we're not really there yet in our relationship.  You know where I'm talking about: the place where we divulge vulnerable information about our deepest shortcomings and fears.  I mean, how much do I really know about you?

Exactly.

Besides, I'd hate to pull the proverbial internet "overshare" and have you thinking that I'm out of control or something.

Now that would be bad.



Goodnight,
Julie