Friday, June 01, 2007

Court

Court was today. His lawyer has been pushing this off for months now. Months. He took forever to call. He got 18 months of probation, has to attend NA two times a week, and continue maintaining a clean lifestyle.

I just don't quite understand this. I thought the entire goal of this was to have a reduced sentence. The felonies were dropped; he was only up for two misdemeanors. And since his lawyer kept pushing it back, I, however naively, thought his sentence would not be so long. I am not retarded. 18 months of probation is great, considering.

But come on. I thought only a year, at the most. And all I really cared about, honestly, is if our vacation to Florida would be jeopardized. It's in August. We'll see.

I am not complaining. I am not. I am happy that it is not jail. I am just confused as to what the point was of waiting so long, if this all could have been started in March.

It's so frustrating to have him call and tell me this, at work, and not answer my questions in a nice, understanding way. I want information - I crave information, I always have. And he is the kind who just gets by with the important things. Don't have a fricken attitude about things that I want and need to know.

We had one of our huge blow-outs last night. The screaming kind, the kind where I threaten to leave. What was it over? I have no clue anymore. Probably something dumb. From what I can recall, there was words and actions thrown around over household chores.

I wish he would comprehend the fact that I am working my ass off and the least thing he could do, the least, is to have the house clean when I get home from work. Do the dishes. Vacuum. Mow the lawn without whining. Make the bed. Do the laundry. Just do something.

He has a job now. I understand that. We both need to chip in. He doesn't need to tell me that he happened to work for the first 7 months of our marriage and he didn't whine when I didn't. It's a lie. I worked. Part-time, but I worked. And his work? That means nothing to me anymore.

I'm not grateful for it. I'm not okay. He may have worked but I don't know how long. He went out to smoke crack. He may have gotten foolish amounts of money, but I wouldn't know. He liked to just "get by" so he could go out. So I am not appreciative. And it's not a legitimate argument because I never saw a penny. I saw us scraping by, begging help from people.

So his job? Means nothing.

2 comments:

Married to my Ex said...

I can relate all too well with your life. I live it as well. I would like to say that there is an easy way out, but there isn't. You don't have an easy out anymore than he has one when he gets f-upped. I am here if you need me. I would suggest getting with for you, though. I wish I had taken that advice years ago. There are lots of us out here so if you need an ear, or in this case eyes...

Married to my Ex said...

oops, I meant getting help for you. Duh. Proofread!!!