today Mary, my wife, wanted to make a special dinner in thanksgiving for a wonderful christmas we had. things didn’t go as planned.
the pears at the store weren’t ripe enough to make the dessert she wanted make. she texted me saying saying the house will smell great when i got home. it didn’t. it smelt like something had seriously burnt in the oven. insert foot in mouth, i vocalized that. the rib roast she got, from the butcher no less, turned out to be far less than stellar. at least the brussel sprouts turn out scrumptious. okay, call us weird; we both like brussel sprouts.
tonight, she turned into a true, died in the wool, inconsolable mop monster. she seem incredibly disappointed and sad. though i realize i’m suppose to be there, her mood is an incredible turn off. this will probably last all the way until morning.
compare and contrast to the deep part of my last cycle that lasted about 4 years. instead of day of mopiness, there were 1460 days of mopiness equivalence! that’s a long time of being down and out. it’s also a long time to be around someone who is down and out. no wonder she’d got short with me at times. it’s understandable. she really needs to be put up for sainthood for seeing things through to the other side.
no wonder wonder she took every opportunity to escape the hell hole that is my depression. mopey days that stretch on for far too long.