~ March 02, 2003 - 5:16 p.m. ~
Love Me, Just Leave Me Alone
I came home from an indescribably craptacular rehearsal yesterday to find that Tim had started to completely re-arrange the apartment, and since he wasn't finished, there was shit everywhere.This is amazing and awful at the same time. It is amazing because we found out the other day that our landlord is NOT raising our rent, and we can stay in our cute little apartment for two more years, so we are now making improvements to our hobbit-hole. I had been ever-so-slightly bummed that we weren't moving because I felt like I didn't have a decent work space. Tim has his studio, but I just work and write our of our home, and since we live in a studio, I have to look at the messy apartment, the blaring TV, and Tim's desk from my desk. The mess really bothers me, and has been bothering me even more lately since I've been so busy with school and "King Lear" that I haven't had time to clean up much. (Tim is no damn good a cleaning up after himself.) Tim wanted to change this by making me a cubical out of bookshelves and arranging things so that I have two desks, two computers, and two filing cabinets. Very nice. We had also been talking about moving furniture to make more floor space, which this has accomplished.
This was awful in that the mess is still there. I mean, I am grateful he took time out of his Saturday to do all this, but he didn't need to do all this. He could have done the dishes and put away the laundry instead, and I still would have swooned over his hard work when I got home. There are still clothes and dishes around the place, waiting for me to pick them up, and now there's all this crap from my desk and his that he took out and scattered everywhere so that the furniture would be lighter to move. It is gross, I can't even walk in here. He also unplugged all my computer stuff, the internet, my mobile charger, my CLIE, my scanner, etc, and fucked with the wires so that everything criss-crossed back and forth across the floor of my new cubicle, making it impossible for me to move around on my rolly-chair.
Last night I was really grateful for all the hard work he put into this, but today I was all pissed because none of my stuff worked, and there was this mess of wires everywhere, and then when I started unplugging things to reposition things the way I wanted them, Tim got all "let me do that, you don't know what you're" on me. OK, I have made some mistakes with wiring before, but he has told me repeatedly how not to connect multiple power-strips with extention cords, so I think I can plug in my own frickin' computer, right? No, no. He has to come over and tell me to get out of the way so he can replug everything his way, which involves wires sticking out everywhere, and though it's safe, it's a total eye-sore and a BIG tripping hazard. So I get even more pissed at the fact that he has to treat me like a child and won't even trust me to plug in my own computer, and a small shouting match ensues. I mean, I know he was only trying to help, but sometimes Tim is not the most diplomatic person in the world, especially if he thinks he's right. I get so upset sometimes because he occasionally decides that he is better than me at something, and he won't even listen to how I want to do something; he's right, I'm wrong, and he makes me feel like I'm just some bumbling jackass who can't tie her own shoes. I mean, I know he doesn't actually think that, but he just has NO sense of tact. pAndi can relate to this, I'm sure, as Tim recently fucked with both of our Valentine's Days by giving her the World's Most Tactless Art Critique. For almost two hours. The boy means well, but his means to the end can be uber-frustrating!
