August Part 5 – Breaking the Marriage Bank

                                                    Image
I don’t know if you have ever heard the term “Marriage Bank” or not.  Dave and I have always followed this set of rules. I don’t know where it came from, but it works for us. When you are married, if one spouse does something, it goes into the marriage bank. The other spouse must now do something to reciprocate or the other will have more in their bank. It’s a form of checks and balances, really. 

 

You don’t want the other to have more in their bank; you don’t want the other to hold all the power. If one spouse has more in the bank, they can get away with murder because their side of the bank account is full and yours is empty. Right now there is a huge chunk in Dave’s account and mine is very overdrawn. Poor Dave; I seriously owe him special dinners, desserts, ahem naughty time, and basically whatever the heck he wants FOREVER. And he could get away with just about anything. If there was a mud truck event that he really really wanted to go to but it happened to be my birthday, not that he would necessarily do so, I can’t say a damn thing. It’s the code of marriage bank. He wins.

 

So anyways, I had a pretty bad morning yesterday. Crazy Kimmie strikes back! I think the antibiotics are kicking in even more now. Lots of rage and emotional issues. Everything started out like a regular morning. I did my IV drip, had a bath, took my morning medication, put my dog in our second bedroom and put up the baby gate for him, grabbed my purse, cell phone….. but where were my keys?

 

I remained calm at first, trying to just think where I put them, but  it’s extremely hard with Lyme to “retrace your steps”. I can’t remember a darn thing! I looked in the usual places…on top of our stereo, kitchen counter, our cat house next to the door (poor cat, we stash everything in there lol ) hmm… not there? Where could they be?

 

Then, I pried a little deeper and moved couch cushions, checked the floor in case they fell out of the above listed areas, my purse. NOPE!

 

If my mind was in a normal state, I would have just kept looking, called work, explained my situation, and just kept looking. It’s always the last place you look, right? 🙂 At this point, I was starting to fume. Of course my first instinct was to blame Dave. This is when the screaming began. “Why the fuck does he touch my stuff! I would be able to find them if there wasn’t so much shit in this house! God, he doesn’t do a thing around here!” Which definitely isn’t remotely true by the way, but when you get mad, you get mad. Keep in mind I wasn’t actually screaming at anyone…. no one else was home…

 

I started frantically looking through my laundry, the trash, kitchen counter, by the phone, everywhere. Then I thought to myself, “Maybe I will call my Dad, I can’t remember if he ever put my spare key under my car?!” And so I did… and his house phone and cell phone there was no answer. He was away at his camp in Vermont, and was probably out for a bit and has poor reception up there. Damnit!

 

So then I call Dave. He is at work, but generally answers his phone even for a quick bit, and makes sure it is on him, especially knowing I am doing the IV’s in case of emergency. No answer. This is when I completely lost it. “What the fuck is the point of having a cell phone if you don’t answer it!!!!!” I started crying uncontrollably as I was really late for work, and had no keys so I couldn’t get there or do anything. I started throwing things, like my kitchen chair, my stereo remote, anything in my path of rage. 

 

I noticed that my dog in the second bedroom with the baby gate up, Chance, was huddled in his crate that doesn’t remotely fit him but we keep a blanket in there and the door open as he likes it. Huddled and shaking. He hates yelling. He was terrified of me. (Don’t worry I gave him a kiss and a treat, pet him and told him it was okay later, and all was well in his world 🙂 )

 

As I was crying uncontrollably, I started moving our lazy boy chair, rechecked the trash, checked the laundry again in case they were in my pants or a sweatshirt. Everything. Where were they?! At this point of crying uncontrollably, I had a full on panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything. I just sat on my couch and cried and hyperventilated in complete frustration. And then Dave calls me. I was trying to tell him what happened as I was crying and hyperventilating, and he gave me suggestions as where to look, and said he definitely didn’t touch or move them, but was willing to take his lunch break to come home and help me find them.

 

Once I felt like I could start breathing again, I kept looking. I wanted to find those friggin keys. But a spare would do too. One of Dave’s friends stopped by for a second, probably to borrow or return a tool and I flagged him down to help look underneath the car to see if there were any keys. NOPE. At this point I was looking for both, but more for a spare. My original keys disappeared into thin air.  I sat in the passenger side of the car and looked through everything in my glovebox in hopes for a spare. I opened all the drawers in my kitchen, thinking there was a spare, my bedroom jewelry box, any random place. 

 

And then Dave showed up. I was still slightly sobbing and was literally over 3 hours late for work. Within LESS THAN A MINUTE, Dave pulled them out from the couch. He said he couldn’t believe I didn’t see them. They were right in plain sight. Then I started crying again because I felt like a big idiot. Then he brought me into the kitchen, poked around for a bit and in the bottom drawer is a giant key holder with 2 sets of spare keys for my car. Also clear as day. 

 

Marriage bank.

 

I made him a grilled cheese, so I would lessen up the debts of the marriage bank. Definitely not the same. But he was appreciative and gave me a kiss and headed back to work.

 

Before he left he laughed at me for what had happened but he said he knew it was going to make me worse symptom wise for the rest of the day. And he was right. I first of all took my sleepy IV’s in the morning and then had a full fledged house search, and I haven’t been that active in months and months. Then the crying and panic attack. My thighs were killing me, my calves were shaky and numb and the rest of my body just ached. I was exhausted. I should have just stayed home at that point. It was so hard to keep my eyes open getting to work,  even stopping for coffee, and not even 15 minutes away. I finished what I could for work and headed on home.

 

I am glad it doesn’t take Dave a whole lot to keep him happy. I think this weekend, no, the entire week, he will get to choose where we go or what I make for dinner. I need to repay my far, far overdrawn account. 😉 He really is the best husband ever.

4 thoughts on “August Part 5 – Breaking the Marriage Bank

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s