Here I am. Friday night 10:37pm, in bed writing a blog. I've had a nasty cold (or flu) for a week now, and hopefully (fingers crossed) I will be functional by tomorrow. I took a dose and a half of Nyquil, since I've developed a tolerance to the stuff. Hopefully, it will kick in when I'm done with this though.
My husband is holed up in his studio (man cave). He was seemingly angsty today, and after enough alcohol, he decided to take out the guitar amp and play guitar. Sounds harmless enough. Sure, it was quarter to ten, so not too too late. But as soon as he fired it up and started playing, the dogs next door went haywire, and the cats ran and hid. It was loud. No way I could watch TV, although there was nothing on anyway. I went out front to check how loud it was. Pretty loud. I went out back to check. Even louder.
After a while, I had to go in and tell him to turn it down. Which I dreaded. As expected, here I come to lay down the law. I never allow anyone to have fun. So, I tried to explain that he just needed to turn it down. I don't know how loud he had it. It echoed all over the house, so there's no telling. That amp is really loud, so even 2 is plenty loud for a club He turned it down to 1 and a half, and it was still loud. It was still pretty loud and clear on the neighbor's side. I started shutting all the doors, to maybe lessen the echo effect. And then I looked for the cats. The Fuzz was under the bed, but Stinksy was nowhere to be found. Not in the closet or on the couch. So, then I had to go back into the studio to look for him in his favorite closet to hide in. Not there. Of course, we got into an altercation. I was telling my husband it was still loud, and of course he was saying how it didn't seem loud at all to him. But at that point, I was worried about Stinksy. Maybe in my going in and out of the house he had followed me out but not back in. Then I found him. In the utility room cowering next to the hot water heater. Bad place to hide. I got him out, anyway.
And my husband and I have not talked since. He went outside to smoke, and I came in the bedroom. When he came back in the house, straight to the man cave. Hopefully, this won't be a ritual for us.
I feel like shit right now. I'm literally sick. And I'm tired of feeling guilty. I dragged him here. He didn't want to move, didn't want to leave his job, didn't want to leave his friends, didn't want to leave his band. I couldn't live the way we were living though. I couldn't. So, now, he hates our life. He can't stand being cooped up in the house. I don't like it either, but I can't complain about it, because then he will ask me why I dragged him here. Plus, I've been cooped up in an apartment so long previously, that this is way better We just need jobs. Then we can meet people and be a part of society and have money to go out.
But also, I have something way bigger, or actually smaller, weighing over my head. My dad. He has summoned me to Lakeland. He tried to call me and left a voicemail and I could not understand anything he said, except for "okay" when he paused to end the voicemail message. So, a week later, a cousin and our family friend both called me to tell me that he wanted me to come see him. His reason was that he wants me to know about the properties he owns in the Philippines. The ulterior motive, I'm not sure of.
Regardless, I have to go. I have to go check on him. I have to see what kind of conditions he is living in. I have to see what his mental state is. I have to hear what he has to say, whether or not it makes sense, and I have to help him go all over town and run errands and embarrass me.
Obviously, at this point in time, I don't think I can drag my husband there. He's so miserable, I can't share this burden with him. It's not his burden to deal with anyway. He has his own family problems that he needs to deal with, anyway.
I'm terrified. I can't imagine facing this man again, and having to interact with him as if he's a totally sane person. He's not. I don't think he ever was. He was at some point functioning, but I don't think he really is now. He just stays in that house and reads his old papers. He has no TV, no internet, he doesn't even get the paper. I don't know where he gets any kind of new of the outside world from.
I think his primary objective is to somehow get to the Philippines. Maybe he is devising a way to make me take him? I really don't know. I can't imagine him being capable of traveling there. I can't imagine him managing his affairs there, if he can't even do it here.
I don't know if I can do it alone. I may have to though.
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