raw at 0014 hours

I feel like doing something drastic. Like deleting my facebook account. Or tearing all my clothes, or something.

This is moderately unusual. Usually I vent this kind of hot, breathy agitation by taking long walks by the river. This is not possible in zone 2 after midnight. More so since they've fenced off my favourite part of the riverside walk (by Rogers + Stirkharbour studios). Even more so because suddenly I FIND MYSELF TO BE A WUSS. Afraid of knife crime, or something. Like a dumpy little suburban fishwife. (I'm going to look up fishwife after this.)

My other half is breathing angstily in the bedroom. I can hear him. Such indignation and world-weariness he puts into each puff of wind; it's impressive. Tonight is an example of how marriage can put you in very silly positions. No one wins, everyone cries, and tomorrow you have to find a way to start again. Bloody hell.

We are moving house over the next two weekends. Over last year, we've accumulated the junk of what seems to be centuries. No, correction, He has collected junk over centuries, and brought it to live with me, to fester in my cupboards and squeeze space for my books and shoes. However, now that we're moving to a smaller (but more bohemian) place for reasons of thrift, we decided to get together and throw much of it out. We've talked about this for weeks, months really. But 2 sleeps away from the new place, he hasn't done a stick of throwing or packing, or even, it seems, thinking. What's more, now he's going on a work trip Right in the middle of moving week.

I am very capable of moving house myself, thank you. I have done it several times. But it has always involved My junk. My issues, My memories. That I decide how to stack up and in what colour. But don't expect me to bust my ass lugging boxes up and down 5 and a half flights of stairs, and still care what your opinion is! Yesterday I packed my shoes and my books. He comes home and looks at the mess of cables he left on the floor and says - ohh you didn't pack those? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? is that supposed to be a joke? funny? After telling me he's going on this trip, he tries to tell me what colour beanbag we should getr because red and yellow are easy to stain.

This is not what I bought. This is betrayal. When you get married, you compromise on your independence, often your standards (e.g. cleanliness) and sometimes your judgement. But you expect them to be there when you need to cancel 50 subscriptions, and open 50 new ones. And you definitely don't expect to spend your first night in your new love nest all alone.

'Sorry babe, this is work' is just not good enough. This is not your story and it's not all about you.