Well, it would seem that everyone else loves Comcast OnDemand too, and we are all loving Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Right, then. Sorry, Mike, but I won’t be taking you up on your offer to trade for your old VCR.  In fact, I should put a listing on Freecycle for the giant box of VCR tapes we’ll never watch again. It’s too bad too, there were some really good exercise videos in my collection, some of which I never even watched.

Oh, you mean I’m supposed to actually do the workouts, not just watch? Crap.

There’s tension here at House of Five, lots of tension and it’s been really wearing me out. I’m still going through Bloglines every day, but mustering up the energy to leave comments is another story.

Things are bad for Chris at work right now. Something about the person in charge of purchasing software neglecting to secure the necessary licenses, and a rejected vendor blowing the whistle, and the possibility of everyone losing their Microsoft certifications, possibly forever. It’s very, very bad. And when he is under stress, what he wants is to come home at the end of the day and have no additional pressure or stress put on him.

Which would be fine, if we didn’t have three kids, one of whom is a baby and another whose potential ADD is causing me to feel like there are constantly bombs about to drop on my head. Wednesday night, we sat down for a “discussion”, that went something like this:

C: If just once a week I got a positive reaction from you when I walk in the door at night, it would be a miracle.

E: But…uh…but…you don’t understand! By the time you get home at night, I’ve been parenting Kaitlyn alone all day, taking care of every single detail of running this family, and then the kids come home and Nathan starts in on me, so by 6:00 I’m a little stressed.

C: I understand you’re stressed, but you could still smile and act happy to see me.

E: (thinking, what, like a goddamn golden retriever?) But…but…

C: And when are you going back on the antidepressants? You’ve been off them since you were pregnant with Kaitlyn a year and a half ago. You’re never happy anymore.

E: (thinking, so you only like me when I’m artificially medicated then?) So, you only like me when I’m artificially medicated then?

C: Don’t be ridiculous. If you’re going to act like a child then this discussion is over.

E: But…but…(notice how intelligent I get in the face of a challenge)

C: And then you badger me to talk to you, and I do, and you don’t like what I have to say. Then you make ridiculous generalizations that don’t help at all, so I just shut up.

E: But…FINE. I’ll go back on the antidepressants, and I’ll be goddamn HAPPY when you walk in the door at night. OKAY?

C: (getting up) *Sigh* THIS is why I don’t talk to you.

So he goes and takes a shower, and I sit there glowering and staring at the muted television. Then he comes out of the shower, all yummy-smelling and wearing a soft cotton t-shirt, and he says he needs a hug. So I hug him, but I’m MAD about it. Then, he says this:

C: All I’ve ever wanted to do since the moment we met, is be your friend.

Awwwwww, SHIT. There is just no arguing with that. No fair pulling the we’ve-been-together-since-we-were-in-High-School card. And THEN he says:

C: I still remember riding my bike from my house (in one town) to yours (in another town) just to see you. Not a week goes by that I don’t think of that.

CRAP. He’s gonna be all sweet and remind me that we were best friends before we fell in love, and that we’ve been together longer than we were not-together.

C: I just want my friend back.

Well, there you go then. There was more hugging and since then, it’s been a little better. Nathan still makes me feel like I have a missile aimed at my chest, and we still have no idea what to do about it, but the tide is potentially turning.

I’ll have another post up later today in which I do my first product review since receiving the Portable DVD player. For yogurt, even. And maybe some photos, it’s been a while. Happy Friday everyone. I love you, even though we haven’t been friends since High School.

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