10. His friends. Well, it's true that most of them made me crazy even before all this happened, but since things have gone even more downhill I can't deal with any of the varieties of Loud-Lovers. Except Quiet. It's the only reason I don't regret meeting Loud. Otherwise, I could've lived without every single other thing.9. My pink summer suit. I love it. And it’s not all pink, in my defense; the skirt is black with little white polka-dots, it’s just the blazer that is pink. He told me that I looked like a real estate agent 5 seconds before I had a job interview, and that pink was ‘definitely not my color’.
8. Volvos. You know, the car. It’s what he drove for the first couple years I knew him, then left parked in a driveway for the other year ‘because he needed to fix it and never had the money’. My Aunt Fanny! I was behind one of these (cars, not my fanny) yesterday and it unfortunately was also the same color/style as his, and I found myself gripping the wheel and grinding my teeth.
7. Miatas. The car he is going to buy because it’s easier than fixing his Volvo. And soooooo much cheaper. This is what we call ‘Loud Logic’.
6. The movie, ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’. Yes, there are so very many reasons to hate that movie, but now I hate it because it’s what Loud does every Friday night. You know, when a group of people get together and act it out in front of an audience. Anyhow, it sucked before and it sucks worse now.
5. Various music and television shows. There are all kinds of songs that I hear and think of him and it makes me angry. Most are pretty crappy, but at least I didn’t seethe when I heard them BL (Before Loud). And I hate watching any show that he and I would've watched together, constantly checking each other's reactions, pointing out the obvious.
4. String cheese and soft tacos. His favorite foods.
3. His personal property. I am just so sick of picking up dirty socks and crap he leaves laying around that lately I have started hiding things in unusual places. All I can say is, good luck opening that next bottle of lunch wine.
2. Our podcast. I hate him for making me feel so bitter about it. I really loved doing it, and now I can’t even listen to the old shows, let alone record anything else ever again. I have killed my alter-ego.
And the number one thing I now hate...
My house. I use to perform illicit late-night drive-bys to look at it before we moved, just to make sure it was ok. I’m sure all the neighbors knew we were freaks before we moved in because they already assumed we were crazed stalkers. I loved this house. I loved the sun behind my headboard in the early morning, and the odd are-there-people-squatting-in-the-attic? noises late at night, and my office in the West Wing where I can see through the Jack-and-Jill bathroom straight through out the guest bedroom window. I loved watching the trees fill in and the yard change, my vegetables growing on the back deck, and I even liked chatting with the friendly people on my street. I loved the pool at lunchtime, when it’s hot and sunny and practically empty except for the gossiping nannies.
But now I hate it. I hate it because I have to move, and even worse I have to go through all this stress again to try to sell, and if other people don’t love it, or see things wrong with it, then I’ll resent it. I hate it because I never though I could be one of those people who truly loves a house, and as welcoming as we made it we couldn’t all be happy in it. I hate it because it’s expensive, and because it was too much responsibility for Loud, and because Quiet and I have to keep it spotless from now until forever. I hate it because someday soon it’s going to be someone else’s and not mine.
My house. I use to perform illicit late-night drive-bys to look at it before we moved, just to make sure it was ok. I’m sure all the neighbors knew we were freaks before we moved in because they already assumed we were crazed stalkers. I loved this house. I loved the sun behind my headboard in the early morning, and the odd are-there-people-squatting-in-the-attic? noises late at night, and my office in the West Wing where I can see through the Jack-and-Jill bathroom straight through out the guest bedroom window. I loved watching the trees fill in and the yard change, my vegetables growing on the back deck, and I even liked chatting with the friendly people on my street. I loved the pool at lunchtime, when it’s hot and sunny and practically empty except for the gossiping nannies.
But now I hate it. I hate it because I have to move, and even worse I have to go through all this stress again to try to sell, and if other people don’t love it, or see things wrong with it, then I’ll resent it. I hate it because I never though I could be one of those people who truly loves a house, and as welcoming as we made it we couldn’t all be happy in it. I hate it because it’s expensive, and because it was too much responsibility for Loud, and because Quiet and I have to keep it spotless from now until forever. I hate it because someday soon it’s going to be someone else’s and not mine.
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