This doesn’t normally happen to me.
It’s 3:45 in the morning. I’m in Johannesburg. I tried sleeping; not happening. Maybe it’s the new-place-different-country-not- my-bed thing. Anyhow, so I’m up. I’m writing. These are 3 am thoughts, unfiltered (because I’m hoping I will be too sleepy to actually edit them in 30 minutes from now).
I like to pick fights with my husband when I get really anxious. Some people might call this a problem; I call it a gift – as in, how gifted am I to recognise my own faults, gee whizz! It’s such a gift, in fact, that I have it boiled down to a formula: If something goes wrong and stays bad, then it is his fault. If something goes wrong and turns good, then it was my fault (both the wrong and the good).
Here’s a typical situation: Two nights ago we went to go see a movie. Earlier that afternoon we stopped by the theatre to buy tickets (my idea) so we could 1) make sure the movie didn’t sell out, and 2) ensure we get good seats. I put those prepaid tickets in the cup holder in the middle console of the car – the cup holder closest to the driver’s seat, right? So we pulled back up to the movie theatre later that night, in a different car, and guess who forgot the tickets?! Totally… it was him. Luckily I carry with me my innocent-accidentally-lost-our-tickets face and mouthful of A-game persuasion with me whenever I’m out on the town. A little chat with the chick at the ticket counter and BOOM—new tickets issued for free. = situation my fault.
The car we drove to the theatre is our tired horse car – as in, she’s a tired horse who might have to go down soon. But I’m protective of her, which is why this happened later that night after the movie was over: We got back in the car, Colin in the driver’s seat. He went to start the car and she fluffed a little before started. So I very politely said something like, “Oh babe, sometimes it works better if, when you turn the key, you hold it for a second.” And no kidding, the man FLIPS out on me. If you know Colin, you know how terribly mean he can be. Picture him screaming at me, top quality yelling, hands flailing about in a maniac manner… all a wife can do is scream back.
And that’s how you end up in divorce, I think.
Good thing I came around the next day, had a good cry, said “I love you” a thousand times, and then had beer and some fish and chips. All this because I was leaving to Malawi for two weeks. Anxiety is such an issue, eh?
PS: I’ll be in Malawi with Wellington filmmaker Michael Hobbs for MicroFlicks — meeting VisionFund microfinance entrepreneurs, children sponsored by New Zealanders, and World Vision Malawi staff. Follow our trip on Facebook, and by hashtag #MicroFlicksMalawi on Twitter and Instagram.
Michael’s first post from Malawi: Malawi, it’s on!
More blogging from me all this week….
PPS: Cool 3 am story.
Photos of how this whole Johannesburg thing started…