Squabble

I was going to write about Life with a capital L because I've been thinking about big things and my own goals and values and what I've learned so far about myself and there's plenty of material there for several blog posts interesting only to myself I'm sure.  Last night Walrus and I had a deep conversation about what gives meaning to life; it was what I'd been longing for- a heart to heart and it ended with mutual 'I love you's and talk of living together.

And today we had a squabble.

It was so minor; he snapped at me once and immediately apologized but these things hurt me for days....

I was near his place (a group home for brain injuries) for an appointment this morning and we agreed I would help him with his grocery shopping and we'd cook dinner together at his home.  Then I remembered he had his weekly meeting with the staff of the house.  Right in the middle of the afternoon.  He calls them 'bullsh*t meetings' as he is supposed to set three goals for each week and he thinks this is nonsense.

I'm wandering around town getting bored wondering when this meeting is going to be over, and then I find out the start was delayed by an hour because the staff were busy.  We could have done our grocery shopping and been back in time.  I'm grumpy because the staff didn't want to let me visit until this meeting was done, and then they wasted everybody's time.  Eventually the meeting is over and I can visit Walrus.

The original plan for dinner was a roast chicken, but Walrus has twice started elaborate meals without reading the recipe to find out how long they take.  I didn't want to be eating at midnight so I protest that it's too late for this project, and I just want something quick and easy. We switch the plan to Hamburger Helper.
I tried to think of another night he could do the chicken but it wasn't going to work this week.

It's really hard to cook with him.  First of all, I should explain that I don't enjoy eating, am very picky, like things simple and plain, can't handle red meat or seafood, and try to eat healthy.  He loves food, except vegetables.  So we really don't agree there.  And then there's the brain injury.  Cooking is when it's most apparent, because he gets confused on the instructions (like not reading all the way through to find out something is supposed to be in the oven for two hours!)

He's supposed to do his grocery shopping for the week in one trip, which is tough for anyone, and I'm there making suggestions and looking for the best price.  His list isn't organized by section so we're in the meats, then the produce, then back to meats, all over the store...I think I'm being efficient and helpful by crossing things off the list and just generally being a backseat shopper.

Back at the house, I fell asleep on his bed and he made dinner on his own.  It wasn't very good, but I think it was poor quality meat that was the culprit.   We watch TV.  I try to make conversation by asking what was the best part of the day?  It had been a pretty lame day, but we had talked about finding meaning every day only the night before... He said everything about it sucked.  I said "Even me?"  He didn't answer and I had a moment of doubt but was still pretty confident that I was the greatest girlfriend ever so I said 'Too slow!' and then he said 'Yes even you.  You came here and rearranged my whole cooking schedule for the week.'

I don't say anything, and he immediately says, "Sorry, I'm just in a terrible mood today."  Then there was this weird conversation that only happened when the commercials came on and not a lot was really said.  I think he apologized again and I did, and we held hands and didn't say much and stared into space or looked concernedly at each other.

Shortly after I decided it was time to leave and I put on my shoes and he was slightly sheepish and we hugged for a long time.  I went home.  He sent me stupid texts about video games that I ignored.  He's completely over the incident and I'm sulking.

For the record, I do not like myself when I get that bossy- I don't at all- but I know what he has trouble with, and he doesn't see or can't admit to himself that he struggles, and I just try to help and go too far.
For the record, I was hoping we'd pick a recipe together but that didn't happen.  I think he picked chicken to please me, but he could have shown me the recipe.

A small incident, I suppose.  Maybe it's just a small incident.  Maybe it is a microcosm of all the bigger issues in our relationship and his struggle to accept his stroke.

It's time for bed.  I hope to write again soon about happiness and goals and the meaning of life.