I had a horrible day.
Probably partly it was the result of not really feeling like I got any rest or “alone time” over the weekend, what with having a guest here and various stressful small “crises,” like the failed kitchen sink drain and the mold-infested barbecue. I have no moment of refuge, no place of retreat.
So I started the day stressed and annoyed, and it just got worse. Before I bought the store, working at the store was a sort of refuge – because mostly I could just concentrate on my specific responsibilities, and the “big picture” was up to someone else – the store’s owners. Now that I’m the store’s owner, all the really big problems rise up to me, and I have to deal with them. There’s no sense of refuge in the store. I face bills, annoying or dissatisfied customers, the competing preferences and requests of employees… it’s all on me to sort out, and delay doesn’t solve anything, so each of these demands my attention NOW.
But actually still, I wasn’t truly miserable till I got home. I guess I’m just burned out on cleaning up after other people. It’s true that Wayne had prepared dinner, which was nice. But I spent the hour and a half after dinner cleaning up: cleaning dishes, cleaning Wayne’s mess in the boat (which returned to our dock yesterday), dealing with a water shortage in our cistern (caused by someone leaving the hose at the dock on for a day straight). It just never stops. And no sense of personal space or refuge to retreat to for bed, since I yielded my bedroom to our guest.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I went down to look at the boat, and found some fish guts and bait in loose, non-waterproof bags in the transom storage area. It was stinky already, the boat having been in the sun all day. I came up to let Wayne know that this mess was there, and his response was: “You can throw it in the water.” Implicit in this was that he just assumed I was happy to clean up after him and Jeff. Now to be clear, I’m not really into fishing even under the best of conditions, but if there’s one aspect of fishing I like least, it’s dealing with fish guts. And here he just assumed I’d be happy to deal with it. So… I dealt with it. But I was quite angry. I even let him know – though I suspect he unable to understand why I was angry. But it made me feel like some kind of servant, rather than someone hosting a friend at my home.
In the end I was so grumpy I just ran away and have gone to bed my treehouse. I’m tired of responsibility. A lot.
It’s kind of primitive out here, and a bit chilly, but at least I have some solitude.
