Wednesday, September 18, 2013


I had the worst nightmare last night.  Worst, worst. And that's saying something since I have very vivid dreams.  Probably the result of having two X-chromosomes and an open mind. 

I dreamed that Jeff met a girl named Jocelyn and they decided to move away together.  He thought the best way to tell me was to take me on a road trip to a car show and tell me on the way there.  We were driving through an old civil-war-era city in which all the buildings were red brick and I jumped out of the car to hide from him so he couldn't finish telling me.  He started driving around a roundabout that went around a park looking for me and I was hiding behind giant Oak trees and brick columns so he couldn't find me.  Eventually he drove away.  When I got home, I didn't want to tell my parents that Jeff left me so I hid it from them and they never found out.  Then my alarm went off. 

You know how you have a dream and when you first wake up you aren't sure if it's real or not?  That was how I felt today.   I was happy my parents weren't dead but I lost my man in exchange.  Crap! 

You guys have probably figured out by now that I'm pretty devoted to my Jeff.  I'm aware that nobody is less deserving of a happy marriage than I am, but screw it.  I won him fair & square and I'm keeping him.  And I'll cut a bitch who tries to steal him away.  OK....not really.  I don't do that anymore.  Because I'm a lady.  And I have people to do those things for me now.

So Jeff got home from work this morning at 7:15 and I told him about my dream while he was brushing his teeth before he went to bed.  Our best conversations occur when he can't speak.  I told him how I was still shaken up by the dream because it seemed so real.

His response?  "Was she hot?"

Whatever. I'm over it. I heard Rico Suave on the radio in the car this morning, so I'm pretty sure everything will be OK.  Gerardo, baby!  Plus, my hair is super straight and I really like my work outfit.  Classic, but stylish.  Kind of like Heavy Audrey Hepburn.  Just go with it, people.  It's a good look for me.  I think that's what I'll name my style from now on:  Fat Audrey Hepburn.  I'm getting a trademark on that, so don't even think about stealing it.

In other marriage news, last weekend I made the mistake of asking Jeff what my Dad said when Jeff asked him if he could marry me:
Jeff: Seriously?
LAB:  Yep.  I want to know what he said.
Jeff:  No, that's what he said: Seriously?

And you people wonder what's wrong with me.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Stay of Execution

For those of you who are interested, I just got a last minute reprieve from the potential demise of my marriage.  Wow...somebody's got a case of the big words today. 

Jeff is still scheduled to change work hours in the near future.  Just not next week.  And by "change work hours", I mean start a schedule that puts him at home with me every night and every weekend.  Indefinitely.  This could be a problem.  Luckily, the guy they hired to replace him in his current position didn't work out, which leaves Jeff right where he is for at least another month.

Being hardly ever together has worked surprisingly well for us. There's a reason I refer to him as my "fictional husband Jeff".  That's also the reason why people assume my brother, with whom I spend a lot of time, is my husband.  Gross.  No offense, Scott.   

I've had many, many glorious years of eating puffed Cheetos and a piece of cheese for dinner while Jeff works nights.  The cheese is for protein to make it a balanced meal.  I'm healthy like that.  Did I mention the copious amounts of wine? I have a feeling that Jeff is not going to consider this an appropriate meal.  And those weekends when he works?  PJ's all day, baby!  Sometimes I don't even wash my face until he calls me to say that he's on his way home.  Good times.

Jeff's about to realize what a lazy shit bag I can be, and he's going to trade me in like an '86 Saturn.  For someone new, with firmer suspension and a tighter turning radius.  *ahem*

We worked the same schedule when we were first married, but I'm fairly certain that he overlooked my shortcomings because we were young & in love.  We're still in love, I just don't have that "new wife smell" anymore. Now I smell more like day-old wine and mediocrity.

The only bright spot in this potential catastrophe is that with Jeff home on weekends to take care of the dogs, I can get on the road for a Magical Mystery Tour of Girlfriends.  And Guyfriends.  I don't discriminate.  All my highly functioning alcoholic friends are equal to me. 

Plus, we just built that Mack-Daddy garage so Jeff has a place to escape the chaos.  Where he can bang his head against the wall in frustration privately.   And I can cook.  Really well.  My Chicken Pot Pie will make you wanna slap your Grandma. 

I figure I'll just feed him and stay out of his line of sight for the first few weeks.  For a break-in period, if you will.  Besides, he can't divorce me.  I'm not through ruining his life!  He still thinks I'm kidding when I tell him this.  Poor guy.