This post is coming out of my intense need for a sarcastic outlet. I’m dying over here. I have a post in draft status entitled “$&@! People Say To People Adopting.” FOR THE LOVE Y’ALL.
A few weeks ago, Dustin and I were driving each other crazy. Like, the kind of crazy that has no explanation. Just the presence of the other was annoying. The sound of the other breathing was enough to make us want to tell others to not get married. I can’t even say what the sight of each other was like.
At the same time we were getting on each other’s nerves; Dustin and I were involved in a group text. Curse you, group text. It was shameless. Really, it was. We were meeting some friends in Atlanta in a few weekends and they were texting us to work out an arrival plan. They were flying, we were driving. An arrival plan was a necessary evil.
At the same time we were group texting; we were also getting ready for a run. Dustin was putting on his shoes and getting licked to death by our dog. I was reading the text messages out loud and asking him what our plan was. Dustin was yelling at the dog. The dog was going bat$&@! crazy. I started yelling the text messages aloud to be heard over Dustin and the dog. Dustin didn’t want to do THIS right now. I said we HAD to. They are booking FLIGHTS. (I LOVE talking in ALL CAPS.) Dustin said some more stupid stuff. I said some more stupid stuff.
We left the house and Dustin took off running. I had been given the dog in some smooth transition out the door. The dog takes off running after Dustin; leaving me in question as to if I do or do not still have my arm attached to my body. I’m yelling at the dog. I’m yelling at Dustin. Now we’re both yelling at each other IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR STREET. We yelled things like:
“What is YOUR PROBLEM!?”
“Do you really want to do this in the middle of the street??”
“I don’t want to run with you.”
“I don’t want to run with YOU.”
“Give me the house keys.”
“What is YOUR problem!?!”
“You’re not invited to my birthday party.”
At this point I literally threw the dog leash AT MY HUSBAND. [Did I mention we’re still in the middle of the street?] I turn around and run 3 miles to the left. He turns around and runs 3 miles to the right. We passed each other once and ACTED LIKE WE DIDN’T KNOW EACH OTHER.
We ran our 3 miles separately and met back at home and literally shook on the fact that we were just moving passed whatever THAT was and haven’t talked about it since.
All that to say; if you’ve ever found yourself yelling at your spouse in the middle of the street: you’re not alone, friend. You. Are. Not. Alone. Stay strong. Peace be with you always.