Okay, so I am so BEYOND irritated right now, but I'm torn as to who I should be more irritated with: myself, or my husband.
Having moved in with his parents, we live in a very small space as compared to what we had before (a 2bd/2ba entire apt).
We now have:
Two bedrooms which are connected by a jack n' jill bathroom being used as our "apt.".
In that space, we have a small living room/office area, and then a bedroom area. Now, we are trying to negotiate how to fit our son into all of that as well.
This is a hard task. It's made harder by the fact that my darling spouse is a SLOB.
Trails everywhere he freakin' goes. Clothes strewn wherever he happens to take them off, crochet paraphernalia (yes, he crochets) here and there, whatever magazines or book he decides to flip through, dishes, shoes, etc.
Basically anything he touches/uses in his daily life gets scattered through our little abode.
It drives me FUCKING nuts. Partly because I am, in fact, a Type Aer who has inherited her mother's reverence for cleanliness (although not nearly as psychotic), but MOSTLY it's because a small space immediately becomes unlivable if it's not kept clean and organized.
And I have TRIED. I've let a lot of things go in the 2.5 years that we've cohabitated, and I've done my damnedest to try and give everything a place, so it's easy keep stuff picked up.
This does not register with him.
The thing is, I feel bad for getting mad at him about it. When we both worked, I didn't feel bad, but now that he's the only one working, I feel like the LEAST I can do is the housework. So now, I DO feel bad, because I feel like I'm not pulling my weight.
This feeling is not as a result of him either. He doesn't care if I clean or not. He's fine with the mess and overflowing baskets of laundry. I'm the one having the nervous breakdown about it.
Before I got pregnant, This wasn't that big of an issue. For the most part, even though I got annoyed from time to time, I did all of the cleaning/laundry, and that was that. But now, it's a different story.
I'm so tired. All the time! It seems like the messes are creeping up on me more and more frequently now. Oh, and the laundry. Good LORDY LOVIN', the laundry. There's always been a lot of it, because my husband is sweaty and changes at least twice in a day, but lately, it's just overwhelming. I can get it sorted, washed and dried, but by the time I get to the putting away/hanging up portion of the program, things fall apart.
I just don't have any energy or focus, which is worse than the fatigue.
So we end up with baskets of laundry lined up on our window seat or next to the bed, which end up being rifled through by the Hubster, and thus strewn throughout creation.
And a day like today will come, a day that is hot, one in which I am tired and headachy, where I look around our space and its piles of mess/laundry and try to imagine our son and all of his stuff coexisting with it all, only to realize that it's going to get SO MUCH WORSE.
--this is when I CRACK.
Yelling is imminent. My poor clueless spouse will walk in the door any minute now, and I will unleash a torrential bitchfest upon him.
But I don't want to. He works hard, and I SOOOO appreciate that. He doesn't care if I do nothing but sit on my ass and eat bonbons...
So what right do I have to chew him out for not putting away his crap?
But at the SAME TIME, shouldn't he put away at least some of it?
Sometimes as he sits there, after work, playing his Xbox, amid piles of laundry as I once again gather up his dishes, I briefly visualize strangling him with the controller cord and throwing the machine out the window....
Other times as he sits there, after work, detailing the mind-numbing day he had, amid the piles of bills he's trying so hard to pay, I'm so thankful that he's willing to do it and come home so happy to be with me every day.
Does any of this make any sense?
I think I just needed to vent.