Probably because you and I are running a relay, trading off that cart. BTW, I’d appreciate it if you’d quit smearing the handle with molasses and bubble gum… 
Computers and pet hair: My last laptop had a fatal overdose of dog hair. As we still have the same German shepherd, and have filled a void by adding a Pyrenees/St. Bernard mix after poor Sebastian died, I ordered a case of canned air when I ordered my spangly new ultrabook last month. Expensive lesson learned!
Anti-rant: Vacation crisis averted! Our destination has changed from Fort Riley to St. Augustine - woohoo! Four-hour drive, instead of two days each way, and there’s actually some “there” there in St. Augustine. (Honestly, if Tony really wants to see his friend N, I will gladly pay for a plane ticket for her. But I’d rather have no vacation at all than to spend four days in transit to and from nowhere to visit someone I’ve never met.)
New rant: Tony’s attitude. I get that he’s tired of hurting, and recuperating, and being unable to do more. Really. I get it. If I could hurt for him for a little while, I would happily volunteer. But he is in danger of alienating the entire household with his demeanor lately - He starts every sentence, question, or request as though it’s the middle of an argument. He assumes that every joke is the start of an argument. All glasses are half empty, every silver lining tarnishes and clouds over when he starts picking it apart, etc.
Example 1: Last night, I bought ice cream at the grocery store, and shared a bowl with the baby - she was freaking ADORABLE. Her reaction to the discovery of ice cream was comparable to Helen Keller’s “water” moment, it was Archimedes’ “Eureka!,” it was “Where have you been all of my life?!” She was the funniest, happiest, most wonder-struck thing you can imagine. I turned to Tony and, in all seriousness, asked him to please remind me of that moment in the future when our little angel feeds a sandwich to the computer or wants to join a commune or finger paints the dog with chocolate pudding (again.) Instead of enjoying the moment, Tony just harrumphed and pointed to the drip of (vanilla) ice cream on the (porcelain tile) floor… like that mattered one whit.
Example 2: We are trying to buy some property. Tony’s wish list is pretty much unattainable in our price range - he wants lots of isolated acres, with access to high speed internet for gaming, within the kids’ current school attendance zone. (All of the schools in the county are quite good, but the two smaller high schools offer lots of Farming 101 and “So you want to be a secretary” classes. The larger school, where my son attends, has a partnership with the local university, and he’s really, really excited about the robotics classes scheduled for next year.) To get Tony’s exact wish list, we’d have to spend at least a half million - not possible. Anyway, I have scoured thousands of real estate listings. I’ve asked folks who might be in the know about anything that might soon be on the market. I’ve searched the county property records for bank-owned assets that we might be able to make offers on, even if they’re not listed for sale. A couple of weeks ago, I found a listing that I thought might work. Tony glanced at the plat map and said “absolutely not, no way, no how.” So Friday, we were out driving around, looking at a few places we weren’t very enthusiastic about, when I said “just humor me, and let’s swing by that one place we saw on-line.” Honestly, it’s nearly perfect for us: It’s just shy of 5 acres, in the county (no city taxes, woot,) with frontage on a little dirt road AND on the bypass, just a stone’s throw from city limits. The strip on the bypass is heavily wooded, and the property feels like it’s far more rural than it actually is, but there’s good internet service available, the kids don’t have to change schools, and it’s easily within our price range. (In fact, I think it’s pretty undervalued. I suspect, given the rate of growth in this area, that this land is an excellent investment with that frontage on the bypass.) And we both agreed, on the spot - we will not find anything that suits our needs better. So what has Tony done since then? Grumbled and griped about what we’re “giving up.” Bitched that this land isn’t rural enough for him to take target practice in the back yard. Bemoaned the fact that I won’t “let” him spend our entire house budget on building a thousand miles of fences and an underground shooting range. (“Honey, let’s get the well and septic tank and power and an actual house first, then see what the budget will allow. And how about if we start with fencing a yard for the dogs and one for the babies to play in first? We’ll do the rest as we can afford it later…”) And frankly, I don’t care any more. Whether he wants to join me or not, I have an appointment with our buyer’s agent on Tuesday, and plan to make a cash offer. I will gladly pay the full asking price, with a certified check. I’m tired of the dithering, and I want this land, and my name is on the savings account, too, and I want my own place to be, for me and my family, dammit.
(I don’t think it will really come to that. Truly, if I tell Tony that buying this land will make me happy? He will agree completely. I really wish we had the budget for all of the land and amenities that we all would like, but mostly, I want us to establish something permanent for ourselves - a place, a home, some financial stability. I don’t need any kind of mansion, and the past few years have proven to me that Tony can certainly survive being “cramped” on five acres - he was living in a 650 square foot apartment when we started dating, for pity’s sake!)
But my Nattering Nabob of Negativity is making me crazy. I’m too frazzled by my duties as a full-time mom, caretaker, accountant, and personal real estate agent to add Full Time Peacemaker to the resume…
:eek: