Everyday Mundane Crap

Sometime Omar irritates the crap out of me.

It's twenty past seven on a Thursday night. Most couples are finishing the dishes or settling down to watch a game or t.v. or do some laundry. Not here. Omar is calling me from a train station informing me that he'll be home by eight. He wants to know what's for dinner and what did I do all day on my day off.

Well, here's what I did on my day off. I read for three or four hours, watched some television, spent time on the Internet, folded the three loads of laundry that have been sitting on the couch since last week, and did the dishes from last night. I forgot to take anything out of the freezer for dinner, which apparently is a cardinal sin that I didn't learn about in CCD. I didn't clean the bathrooms or do anymore laundry because I didn't feel like adding to the hour of folding I had just done nor did I vacuum the apartment. And Omar acts like I've betrayed him or something like that.

Things you need to know about Omar: 1) he's the oldest of four kids; 2) his mom's nurse but she was a stay at home for most of his life; 3) even after Omar graduated from college, his mom made his bed, ironed his clothes, cooked his meals; 4) Omar always thought he'd get a wife like that, too. Fat fucking chance.

I'm not domestic. I have clothes that were washed last May that are still sitting in an ironing pile. I can cook pretty well, but I don't like doing dishes. I hate cleaning the bathroom. I don't mind doing laundry. In fact, I do 90% of the laundry because Omar never remembers to even though the laundry basket is in our bedroom. I refuse to take the trash out to the dumpster after dark because there is a racoon that ate Chicago that lives out there. I only dust if I'm sneezing.

Omar knows of all these things. He's been with me for nearly seven years. None of these things are new. They were that way when I was in college. They were that way since I could understand what any of that was. I've always been a slob, ever since I was a little kid. My mother could tell you stories and she will if you ask. I like clutter. There's something about the disorganization of it that appeals to me. Not to Omar. He likes everything just so. Which is wildly irritating. And despite all these things he knows about me, he expects me to change and behave -- well, I'm not really sure who he wants me to behave like, but presumably more like his mother or mine.

It's not going to happen.

I am who I am. On my day off I would rather sit on the couch with a book for a few hours rather than clean my bathroom. I would rather throw laundry in the machine while I work on my novel than vacuum. I know cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming don't take forever, but doing that stuff is boring and I'd rather put it off. Procrastination, thy name is Lucy. And I'm okay with it! And usually Omar is, too.

Part of the reason, most of the reason, I'm so irritated is because a) he's coming home late. Again, and b) I haven't spent any time with him in awhile. Omar is getting his MBA. He has this really big project due, plus a final exam next week and he is spending every moment he's not at work studying. But here's the thing, and I am so much like Baby Sis in this respect that it's frightening, if you tell me you will do something, you better do it. On Sunday, Omar told me he'd be home by three from the library. We'd have dinner together and hang out before he had to go play softball with people from work. Well, four-thirty rolls around and Omar comes rushing in. He changes his clothes and goes rushing out. Then he gets home after eight. So much for being home at three to spend time together. Last night, he tells me he'll be home by eleven. He calls me at midnight and says he'll be home in a little bit. Yesterday, I had a really big visit at the Store from my regional sales manager. He didn't even ask me about the visit; I had to remind him and tell him about it. That was a really important thing for me, a big deal.

When he called a little while ago and told me he'd be home at eight and wanted to know what was for dinner, blah blah blah, he asked me what I did today and I told him nothing, he asked me why I didn't vacuum, etc. So I said, I didn't see why I should do the things he expected me to do when he couldn't even get home when he promised me he would be. He just called my cell phone and he's being all cute with me because he knows he's in the doghouse. He even offered to take me out to dinner, which definitely means he knows in the doghouse.

I love Omar and this is only one part of our life together. Most times he's a lot of fun to be with and even when he's exasperating, he's adorable. But sometimes, he just irritates me.