Here's the second thing I need to talk about today:
Somehow, and I'm not sure where it started, but somehow this blog of mine has become a type of blackmail against my wife.
Honestly, I don't try to use this in any form to influence her thinking at all.
I just use this like an empty canvas before a painter, and spill out the ideas and words that are jumbled in my head, and hope that something meaningful is conveyed once the stuff is put down.
I don't write this to belittle her, or chastise her, or critique her.
I blog because it helps me to sort out who _I_ am, and what I'm thinking and where I'm going.
It helps me to figure out were I might have gone wrong.
It helps to use my overactive imagination, and tell stories and anecdotes.
It helps to give me the release I need for pent-up frustration and anger at times as well.
Needless to say, I'm on PMS watch at my home. I'm not saying that I know exactly what's going on with my wife and her body, but there are times where the signals are just too vivid to not notice.
I don't understand why, but PMS has always confused me.
I'm not trying to alienate you ladies, but I've gotta be honest here:
In my experience, women in general are hormonal creatures to begin with. I mean, you've got the "biological clock" ticking away, and it does strange and wonderful things to you.
You see the picture of a newborn baby, all snuggled against come fuzzy blanket, and you get the warm soft fuzzy feeling, say "Aww", and everything seems wonderful in the world.
You might see an overly suggestive scene on TV, or read about some racy idea in a magazine, and get all worked up only to bring that feeling home. This could be directly after an argument, or even after something good has happened. We guys can't really tell the difference, we're just happy to get some!
Then there's the temper. Oh lord above.. The TEMPER.
The toilet paper roll is on upside down. One dirty dish is left in the sink. There's visible dog hair on the carpet. There's water drops on the bathroom floor. The toilet seat's been left up. The bed's not made.... Need I go on??
Now, I'm not saying that it's all bad. However, for some reason, your clock seems to magnify all of this 1 BILLION percent. Yes, I said a BILLION.
(Well, not the horny part, since most of you think that's completely disgusting during that "time of the month" anyway!)
Yes, I'm a slob. I take my time, and do things MY WAY. Can that really be all that bad?
If the job gets done, is it really important when or how it got done?
I say, let me have my little quirks, and deal with it. I'm too old anymore to really change too much more about myself.
If you feel that I'm using this to get at you, my wife, it's really not.
I'm just thinking out loud, and airing my thoughts.
I kind of like it that way.