This past weekend was a big waste. Plus it was a holiday weekend. A big wasted holiday weekend. For many, Memorial Day is celebrated by the year’s first trip to the beach. The Man and I didn’t leave Houston.
OK, the weekend wasn’t a complete wash. The Man and I did catch a couple of movies (and we rarely go to the cinema). We went to see “Bridesmaids” on Saturday. He cracked me up by saying that he and I would be the only guys in the theater who were not attending with a girlfriend/wife. He wasn’t entirely right, though; another couple of guys entered the theater (without women), and he and I elbowed one another and giggled. Yes, we are so mature. The lady sitting next to me in the theater checked her voice mail in the middle of the movie. I wanted to grab the phone from her and chunk it across the room. I was a bit irritable.
We also saw “Thor” on Sunday. I’d seen the movie with my son during my last trip to Louisiana. But it was a fun movie. I like any of the Marvel Comics movies and can watch them over and over. In the middle of the movie, a man in the front of the theater took a call and talked in his normal (loud) voice. I wanted to walk up to him, grab his phone, and chunk it across the room. I was a bit irritable.
After leaving the cinema on Sunday, I agreed to go shopping with The Man. Let’s make it clear: he usually does all the shopping for the house. As a rule, I reserve the word “hate” for things that absolutely sicken me. I hate shopping. I stumbled around the store with him, grumbling and being generally bratty. Shopping makes me irritable.
He keeps his shopping list in his cell phone. At one point, he said “I need a little help here. Can you hold my phone and name off what we need?”
I just came back with: “I can push the shopping cart instead. I’ve been doing that since I was around eight…”
He just rolled his eyes.
I then moved quickly around the aisles, chatting crazily and waving my hands dramatically. Suddenly he said, “Why don’t you go get some beer, and I’ll meet you in that aisle?”
I laughed and asked, “Getting enough of me?”
He simply smiled.
By the time we arrived at the check-out, The Man looked rather tired. Poor guy.
Monday, I did yard work and stayed out of his way … well, mostly. Later that evening (a bit too late to sensibly go), I decided to head out to the gym. But not before, I ranted fifteen minutes on a completely meaningless subject. He finally said, “You are doing a little projecting here. Why don’t you go work-out?”
I did.
At the gym, I sent him a text. “It must be challenging to have a crazy partner…”
He sent back. “Sometimes challenging, always rewarding”
“Exhaustingly entertaining. Well, ‘entertaining’ is not the right word. Unavoidable?”
He texted, “Are you working out?”
“On the treadmill. It’s difficult texting while walking on a 15 degree incline.”
“I’ll bet.”
When I got home, he was at his desk. “Wow,” I said. “You are still up, but it sure looks as if you shouldn’t be…”
He laughed. “I’m headed to bed. I’m tired.”
I showered off the gym sweat, and then jumped on top of the covers of the bed. He turned over and smiled. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”
“I’m all pumped up from the gym … plus I’m a bit manic.”
He laughed. “Really…?”
[At least, I am not running around the Texas Medical Center: no shirt, no shoes, no socks, no sense … just a pair of white jeans and 180 pounds of psychosis. That story will follow one day...]
“I’m going to write for a while.”
He smiled again. “See you in the morning.”
I waved at him, as I jumped off the bed and reflected his smile.
It’s not easy living with someone who has bipolar disorder. It’s not easy living with bipolar disorder. Life is not always a trip to the beach. But life is also not a big waste.
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