Wedding Worry #666: I'm Becoming a Nag

Let's take a look at a week's worth of wedding-related conversation between the lovely spiceboy and myself:

MONDAY

me: Did you do __________ ? (insert wedding related task here)

spiceboy: Not yet, but I will.

me: When? We really need to get this done.

spiceboy: I will.

me: When?

spiceboy: Don't worry, I'll take care of it.

WEDNESDAY

me: Did you do ___________ yet?

spiceboy (sounding sheepish): Um...no. But I will.

me: When?

spiceboy: Soon.

me (letting out a sigh that I hope sounds appropriately exasperated, yet tolerant): Okay.

FRIDAY

me: Did you do ______________?

spiceboy (sounding guilty): No, not yet. But I will.

me (voice getting loud and squeaky): Look, we really need to get this done. How many times do I have to ask you before you actually get this done?

spiceboy: Will you just get off my back?

Ouchy.

The 7 words no bride to be wants to hear. The 7 words that indicate I'm on the road to Nag Town and there's no turning back.

Nagging is like crack for girlfriends. You know you shouldn't do it. You know it's wrong and socially unacceptable. But you give in to peer pressure, and after you try that first hit, you're hooked.

When spiceboy said this to me, I realized that we'd reached yet another turning point in our relationship. If we were in an MTV reality show, this would be the point at which we stop being polite and start getting real.

Now, I know that spiceboy doesn't want to be labelled lazy husband any more than I want to be labelled nagging wife. And yet here we are, standing on the threshold of the very stereotypes of love and marriage we've tried so hard to avoid.

It was yet another real life wake up call. Marriage is not all about romance. It's about figuring out how to live with one another. And by live with one another, I don't mean cramming all of your worldly posessions into a 350 sq ft apartment. I mean really live with one another.

And I thought, do I really want to be this woman? The nagging woman?

No, I don't.

But the temptation was right there in front of me, beckoning as spiceboy's words echoed in my head:

Will you just get off my back?

And even though my rational brain was screaming for me not to offer a rebuttal to that statement, the little devil on my shoulder (who, incidentally, bore a striking resemblance to my mother) was jumping up and down with glee, whispering: Just one little hit. Just to take the edge off.

I'm only human. I gave in. Summoning my best bitchy and sarcastic voice, I answered spiceboy's question:

I'll get off your back when you get it finished!

New York Minute: Part Five

This is how I woke up this morning, a good 30 minutes before my alarm went off:

Honk!

Hoonnnnk!

Honk! Honk! Honk!

HONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! (multiple horns chime in at this point)

Honk!

Man's voice (echoing down the street): What's wrong with you, ya fuckin' idiot?

Happy Friday

Grown Up

Most days, I still feel like a kid playing grown up. Most days, my life seems like some fun adventure I'm having--my job, living in New York, my relationship with spiceboy. I almost feel like my life belongs to someone else and I'll have to give it back soon. Kind of like Jennifer Garner in 13 Going on 30.

But on the way home from work last night, somewhere around 63rd and Third, I was going over my mental to-do list when it hit me.

I am a grown woman.

I have a real job.

I pay my own bills.

I have moved away from the town of my birth.

I have made a life for myself. On my own terms.

And for a moment, I felt very overwhelmed. Then that feeling gave way to joy.

Then I went home and ate an entire package of peanut M&M's while I was cooking dinner.

Because if a grown up wants to have dessert before dinner, she can.

This is what a Relationship Looks Like from the Inside

Valentine’s night.

spiceboy and I are on the couch in our pajamas, eating dinner off of small wooden TV trays (which, in a 350 sq ft apartment, is the equivalent of a dining room table), drinking red wine, and watching a movie about a pimp.

Was it a great night?

It was soooo a great night.

Drive home safely today, spiceboy. I'll miss you.

New York Minute: Part Four

YESTERDAY MORNING

spiceboy managed to sneak into town just before the storm hit on Saturday, which definitely made the blizzard more bearable.

“Listen,” he said yesterday morning while we were still bundled in bed, watching the snow fall outside our window.

I listened. “I don’t hear anything,” I replied.

“Exactly,” he said.

There were no cars, no trucks, no honking horns. Just quiet, punctuated by the occasional sound of a shovel scraping the sidewalk.

YESTERDAY AFTERNOON

It was still snowing well into the afternoon. Huge, fluffy flakes—like the snowflakes you’d see in a movie. Union Square looked like a winter postcard, and I was overtaken by that familiar childlike joy that always seems to come with a large snowfall.

An impromptu football game had broken out in the park, and dogs ran all about, barking and tossing snow into the air with their snouts. Little kids gleefully threw themselves into huge mounds of fluffy snow again and again.

I jumped up and down and hugged spiceboy repeatedly.

As we waited to cross 14th Street, I glanced behind me and spotted an older redheaded woman, bundled against the cold. She turned her face skyward, letting the flakes fall on her cheeks. Then she stuck out her tongue—a flash of pink—and caught one snowflake, then another. Then she smiled to herself.

It was the kind of day that made everyone feel like a child.

THIS MORNING

Having recently watched March of the Penguins, it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance between the penguins in the movie and New Yorkers on their way to work this morning.

Heavily clothed women and men waddled down the sidewalks, stiff-legged in their heavy snow boots. They picked their way over mounds of snow, jostled to get into single file lines to cross the streets, and huddled together in large groups against the cold winds while waiting for the bus, blowing out exasperated puffs of white air and murmuring amongst themselves.

That’s all. Happy Monday.

If You Want To Know How I'm Feeling Today...

Please refer to item #7 in the about me section.

Seriously. It's been days and days. I've tried everything. Brown rice. Beans. Vegetables. I've been drinking a least 2 liters of water per day.

And still, I cannot poop.

I'm getting desperate. Even a happy little fart would take some of the pressure off of my abdomen.

It makes me nostalgic for happier days, when poop came with a sense of urgency.

But at the moment, I've got nothing.

Have a nice day.

Just One Little Thing...

Despite the hiatus, this morning I have something to say.

spiceboy has been in Pittsburgh since the beginning of December, tending to things at Spice World. Because of his schedule, it's almost impossible for him to get back to New York. And because of my schedule, it's almost impossible for me to get back to Pittsburgh. As you can probably tell, this is not an ideal situation.

For the most part, I've been doing okay with it. I just go about my days and try not to think about it too much. I also try to look on the bright side at all of the silly things I can do when he's gone:

When he's gone, I can get up in the morning and turn on very last light in the apartment and blast the radio while I'm showering.

When he's gone, I can go to the bathroom with the door open.

When he's gone, I can fling my wet towels across the bed and it doesn't bother anyone.

But sometimes, like now, when I walk out the bathroom and I can see the sun shining off of the buildings across the street and I can hear the constant noise of the city outside, I can't help but notice how still the apartment is.

And then it hits me like a wave.

When he's gone, I miss him terribly.

Taking a Short Hiatus

More soon.