I thought I was the one who was supposed to be difficult.


Well, today WAS going okay. I slept in, went and got lunch, got a couple things on my to-do list marked off, started work on my resume while Chris was working on a healthy dinner, and we had plans to go out to see a movie (for free) that we’ve been dying to see with friends later on in the evening. Suddenly, from in the kitchen, he screams that he needs help and I see bright orange and him running out and I realize it’s fire. Now, mind you, he’s a professional chef and knows what to do in the event of a fire but everyone panics when there’s a flame shooting out of a pan 6 feet into the air. Luckily, he threw the pan onto the ground, it didn’t ignite anything (or badly burn our cabinets) and he had the brains to grab the extinguisher. The kitchen filled with a white cloud and we both started choking on chemicals. I leaped into action to open the doors and windows, grabbed a fan, and locked the cats up. We’re all fine but dinner is destroyed and the night is destroyed.

So, resume creation put on hold, I automatically start cleaning up. Any sane person would start there, right? I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the weird sandy stuff from the extinguisher as I was choking on chemical crap. I told him to sit down for a few minutes but didn’t assume he’d disappear. I began wiping all of the cabinets and putting the dishes into the sink because they all needed to be cleaned again. Everything in the kitchen now had a white residue on it. Still, he was nowhere to be seen. I continued to sweep and wipe stuff down and started to get annoyed. Why was I cleaning up HIS fire? I know it was an accident but HE DID do it, not me. Why was I cleaning everything up by myself? This was seriously aggravating me and the fact that it had basically ruined the evening didn’t add to my mood. I was hungry, agitated, and now I was beginning to have racing thoughts about what to say and that’s a bad combination. I went to ask him why he wasn’t helping and he was on the couch. He said I should wait and let the dust settle. WAIT?! Um, no. I’m not waiting all night for anything. It’s late and I have stuff to do. This is not further stalling my plans. He then got pissy and walked away mumbling: “Do whatever then”. Um, excuse me?!

I cleaned that entire kitchen for over an hour. I asked him a second time if he wasn’t going to help and got no response. He was laying in bed on his computer, pouting. I still haven’t eaten anything and he’s yet to speak to me. I’m so sick of this passive-aggressive crap. I’m made to feel like I did something wrong and that I’m supposed to be guilty but the logical part of me knows I did nothing. This emotional black mail is what my mother did to me. It’s manipulation. I cannot take it anymore and will not. If I had the means to leave, I would. 😦

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