We're in the middle of a big green blob on the doppler. I wouldn't complain, because we need the rain, but from the looks of the Weather*Channel forcast we should be building an ark. (Which makes me abundantly happy that Husband was so proactive in replacing our sump pump last week.) (And, yes, that was just one more unexpected added expense to add to our already wheezing budget.) I really don't mind the occasional gloomy day as it makes for good reading, snuggling, Life*time movie watching time, but this weather front is being particularly malicious to my joints. I'm in all manner of pain up and down my leg and up back and arm and wrist and head. I feel approximate in age to my grandmother and that is not pretty.

To the world at large, Husband seems a kind and gentle man. He's giving and provides a nice shoulder (especially comfortable if you are a young woman). He treats his wife well and is not afraid to publicize the fact that he does 99.9% of the housework while bringing home the bacon and frying it up in the pan. He's a hard worker and the type of supervisor who's popular with his underlings and his superiors - although he has a hard time making the tough calls, which is why he hasn't moved farther up the ranks after 17 years. He's always had a very positive work attitude and that's one of the reasons I fell in love with him when I first met him at work. Lately, however, especially since his parent's deaths, he seems full of pent up anger. He swears he's happy, yet we can't seem to sit down and watch 15 minutes of television together without him finding something to rant about. And when I say rant, I mean cuss and yell and go into a lengthy explaination of why it's such a shining example of how STOOOPID people are.

We all have bad days and we all have those hot-button issues that make us step on the soap box. And I'm glad that Husband is passionate in his beliefs because, frankly, not enough of us are. It's getting to a point, though, where it's driving a wedge between us and I'm more than a little worried that he's in need of some medication - Tom Cruise be damned. (Not that he would take it, because that would be admitting a problem and don't get me started.) In order to maintain my own sanity, I tend to need to look toward the positive as much as possible. I see television and other forms of media as an escape mechanism. A way to look at other lives - no matter how make believe - and say, at least I'm not that guy! Husband, on the other hand, sees every show and every commercial shown during that show as an example of why people are idiots and morons. (He has particular favorites, such as a specific gecco with a British accent, that we frequently revisit.)

It's not how he is every minute of every day, but it eliminates my desire to share television time with him. He's gotten to the point where he only likes to watch sports and the country music channel - both of which can get him going - especially if the good guys are playing poorly. He listens to both at top volume and screams his commentary over the top of the TV. Then wonders why I won't come and sit with him while he watches. And I will admit, I prefer fluff television. Reality crap and sitcoms and hour long dramedies, and I also like some of the rough and tumble television that's popping up on F*X in the wee hours. But I think I'm kind of intelligent and I really don't think most of this stuff is real, any more than I think Oprah and Dr. Phil hold all the answers. I also know that there are people out there who don't understand that it's not real and therefore I believe that TV will be traced back to the destruction of our society whenever we get to that point. I know this. I understand this. It's part of the reason I watch TV while doing other things. Because it's not important. It's soothing. There's a difference.

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah...

So I'm worried about the Husband who says he's not cranky, he's just feeling overwhelmed at work. Which begs the question, why don't you take it out on those people, then and bring your charming self home at night? And I'm a little disappointed that he won't go to the Mother's Day Move Fest with us on Sunday because "The Poseidon Adventure" Is one of his favorite movies of all time and he's afraid the new one will suck. Well, sorry Bud. But if you can't sit through two hours of a movie that might suck and detach yourself from reality to make your wife happy on Mother's Day, then she's certainly not going to sit there and listen to you scream at the pitcher for three hours every night just to make you feel better.

Even though I would if it would make you feel better.