Rituals... I got to thinking about how it is rituals... all rituals. HE (the caps are intentional, even tho on this new laptop it is a bitch to type without an error every five taps... but that is another story.)... anyway, lately HE has very much been into rituals.
From morning wake ups to bedtime tuck ins... the order of things... the manner of things... all are becoming increasingly rigid. One can look at the clock and calendar and see exactly where one is and what to expect. Even this... this out of order tap, tap, tap of the fingers on the new (and recalcitrant) keyboard has elicited an immediate and intrusive... "What are you doing????" (You could infer that I have not been writing as much lately... and you would be correct.)
HE not only expects me to greet him on my knees every night when he arrives home from work... HE DEMANDS it. A brief hesitation to adjust the clothing before going down to the floor will result in a sharp bark of "get your ass down there, now!!!". And to think it was my idea... and that HE still mocks me when I am there... telling me how silly I am... woe to the tardy bitch that is not there promptly... so that he may walk around me, regarding me... and take advantage of my vulnerable position to tickle, grope, spank.
Last night... Friday night... every Friday night I am tasked with the making the decision as to which place to go out to eat... (Yeah, I know... pillow princess... but once again... it is HIS pillow and HIS decision to make me live in this guilded cage... but again that is another story.) So this Friday I decided to be adventurous and suggested we try this new hamburger place... supposedly according to reviews and lists and polls... Five Guys Hamburgers are the "best"... so what the hell.. lets be brave. Suffice to say, I was unimpressed... but HE... HE was livid... HE growled out a "Oh, HUH UH" at the door... but ignored my whimpered... "We can go somewhere else." Choosing instead to sit and glare at me with this accusatory, "oh you stupid bitch" expression on his face the whole time we were there. I should know better. I should know that he would prefer to eat at the same place every Friday and pretend it was my decision.
He was right... the food was barely edible... the ambiance was horrid... dirty, loud, cold, crowded, expensive... at best an experience to file away under... "well, we know we won't ever go back there". And in the car I managed to mend fences by enthusiastically agreeing with all his critisims... tho I think that the best was... "That place is an illustration of exactly what is wrong with America." Greasy, portions too large... and people idly throwning peanut shells, french fries and god knows what else onto the floor to be walked upon by the throng. The only thing I could say positive is the actual hamberger patty was good... but I must add, I have never eaten a worse hamburger bun anywhere... even counting school hot lunch programs.
So this Friday ritual will retreat into the familiar and the predictable for a while... if not forever.
The Road to Recovery is Slow
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