I am breaking the first rule of Fight Club, I just have to. Before posting the plethora of awesome stuff that happened this weekend, I just gotta do this. After a freaking awesome weekend, Stephen and I went to Hearst Castle for the day with my family and then decided to drive up the coast of California to see Jessica, one of my best friends, who lives in the Bay area. We did this on very very little sleep. And thus...fight club.
If I had these sparklers at the time, I would have stuck one in his ear.
I love my husband. I don't post a bunch of woozy goozy sickeningly sweet facebook statuses about him, because ew. You know the ones. Like, "Oh Ferdinand just vacuumed AND made dinner, my stars, what a bliss-filled Cindarella life I lead. He also craps gold. And gives me back rubs without ulterior motives" First off, no, he had ulterior motives, he was trying to get after it. Second, just stop it. That being said, my husband is seriously, legit, one of the most awesome people I know. And we get along super awesome, 90% of the time. He somehow finds my awkwardness charming and I find his smirks and old man grumpiness endearing. But sometimes, I just want to punch him right in the throat.
Prime throat-punching angle
The other 90% of the time
I am an 8.5-10 hour per night sleeper. I don't do well without it. I turn into a fangor beast. The same thing also happens when my blood sugar drops. Or I have PMS. Or it's too hot out. I am a creature that needs a very specific habitat to thrive. We had an AMAZING time over the weekend, but we had very very little sleep. By the time we left Hearst Castle it was 3:30 and we hadn't really eaten lunch. But still, we were chatting and fine until we stopped for lunch.
Due to the fact I worked in customer service, I can be very particular. But if you're trying, I'm usually pretty patient. Usually. Now, we stopped in Big Sur. Have you ever been to Big Sur? It's stunning. Green gorgeous trees and breath-taking vistas of waves crashing onto jagged cliffs. Because of it's stunning natural beauty, the freakin' hippies have nested there. It's like a natural fabric haven of acoustic guitars and weed. It just smells like free love. Gross.
The little ramshackle food place had one guy doing orders and cooking, and 8 people in line. He, big shocker, was in no hurry to get us our food. Hippies, amiright? But it was delicious. Once we finally got our food, we decided to eat in the car since we had quite a drive ahead of us to get up to San Francisco. Stephen asked me to hold his food while he got in the car, and something clinked in my head. A switch went from happy to crazy in 0.5 seconds. I don't remember what we fought about, just that at one point he asked me not to talk to him like that, and I said "or what" and he said, "Or I will leave you on the side of the road" now, if I had been normal me, I would have laughed, because he would never have done it, he's too good of a guy (even if, at that moment I probably deserved to be left in Big Sur). He didn't. He pulled over and had me drive the rest of the way as he grumpily ate his sandwich and I muttered angrily at every beautiful scenic spot because it's beauty because repulsive to me in my deliriously tired state.
We apologized and all is well, but it got me thinking. What the heck is that fight about? Where did it come from? We were fine if not exhausted ten minutes before, and then boom we were fighting and I wanted to shove him out of the moving vehicle. I just think that it is the service that marriage sometimes provides. Because where a fight like that between friends or family may have been a big deal, a fight like that with us was over and gone by the next morning. I'm not saying you should aim for it or anything, just that it's part of marriage, and I honestly think it's part of a healthy marriage. But no one talks about it, because the first rule of fight club is to never talk about fight club. SO I broke the rule. Because someone needs to tell everyone that it's normal to want to punch you're spouse in the throat from time to time-as long as you don't actually do it.