Stress and Oranges

This week so far has been more stressful then I would have liked, and it’s only Tuesday.  Alberto’s interview at the Embassy in CDJ on Monday, so yesterday I called Noemi who rented him an apartment during the last appointment to reserve room for him.  Noemi and her husband Agustin were so kind to the both of us during the first appointment in December, I feel lucky that we found them.   Noemi told me she would have the apartment ready for Alberto on Sunday, but if he was coming before that he should call her.   She also told me that Alberto should call Agustin when he arrives in CDJ, and he would go and pick him up from the airport or bus station so he wouldn’t have to get a taxi.  I think she heard the emotion in my voice when I thanked her so she told me that they would pray for us.  This woman that I had never met before is going to pray for us to find resolution.  It gives me such hope that someone who I’ve never met is going to pray for us.

The stress we are under this weekend is beginning to show on the both of us.  Alberto is quieter than usual and somewhat emotional which is downright odd.  I am more emotional and sensitive which is driving me crazy.  The typical phone call right now is silence for the most part unless I have something specific to say.  The silence is unnerving me, and he knows it.  Alberto commented on it the other night saying that he knows he doesn’t talk much, but I should know by now that is just how he is.  I made a lighthearted comment about how he only talks one night per month from 11 at night until around 3 in the morning.  I told him that after 10 years I probably know him better than most people. 

What I miss the most is those little things he did that drove me insane, like shoving all the clothes in the washer without sorting.  What is so difficult about separating my work clothes from his work clothes?  He came home smelling of paint, varnish, turpentine, and wood every day.  It was an interesting combination of smells for sure, but his painting clothes did not belong in the washer with my business casual clothing.  He destroyed my silk shirt because he refused to sort the clothing!  Let’s not even get started on his inability to make the bed, pick up his clothes, change the sheets, use a vacuum cleaner, or match socks out of the dryer.  Sometimes I wonder if he committed all these domestic crimes so I would take over the jobs.  I suppose I am pretty particular about some things.  Such as there is only one correct way to fold pillow cases, flat sheets, and fitted sheets.  I even miss his snoring although I can remember the nights I wanted to smother him with his own pillow.  Then there’s the pouting, but I’m sure no one wants to hear about his weapon of mass irritation. 

Sometimes I wonder how we made it this far.  Our relationship was by no means a smooth ride.  The first six months we couldn’t really understand each other, and the second six months we bickered a lot.  There were large amounts of miscommunication and sometimes willful misinterpretations on both of our behalves.  I did some soul searching, trying to determine if this was the right path and right man for me.  It all came down to the ultimate relationship question, where do you see yourself in 10 years?  I could imagine things, places, and people.  I saw a child with dark hair and eyes, a certificate or degree for me, nice townhouse in a quiet neighborhood, and Alberto still doing the laundry wrong even though I taught him how to do it my way.  So in my mind, then and now, I see us.  Alberto understands me in a way no one else ever has before.  So 10 years from now I will still love him and see him as my media naranja (my better half, literally 'half an orange').

Ciao