MR J is the name of the trivial team I'm a part of on Tuesday nights. I've been going for the last six weeks or so with my best mate M and her fella J. I'm R naturally. So that's how we came up with our name...
MR J are the reigning champions; we kick butt on the trivia floor. Not that the competition is fierce. There's the Boozehounds and the Chardonay Girls in the corner but the pub has only been running the comp for a few weeks; it's sure to pick up once people hear about the hundred dollar a week jackpot. It'll be seven hundred dollars next week; and MR J are keen to win. M and I play trivia in front of her heater after work at least one day a week to practice- and in doing so I've learned that the Olympic abbreviation of DJI is for the country Djibuti.
I'm a bit of a trivia buff; I'm not actually all that good but I like it. I was in another team called General Havoc until my Hubby got jealous of Me having my own night out at the pub with 'his' mates where he was expected to mind the children so I could do something other than be a mother and wife. He hated it when I used to have to go to uni classes at night too. I couldn't tell you the number of times I missed class because he would fail to come home to mind the kids. He would tell me that he had forgotten the time but I know it was because he was jealous of Me being out of the house away from his control.
Is it paranoid to say that? Because all of our friends even make comments such as "He's let you off the leash has He" and "How'd you manage to escape". It's a bad running joke but so true.
I messaged M Tuesday afternoon telling her I had a strong feeling my Hubby was going to make it difficult for Me to get to Trivia. I knew he'd have a stink about me spending money at the pub when I have just incurred all these car problems and because we are practically broke until the insurance comes. The thing is Trivia hasn't cost me one cent apparent from the very first night. Because MR J have won every week and we've been given a bar tab of thirty dollars to spend the following week;so I just make sure I keep within my ten dollar share budget. That's three middies of beer; which I sip slowly so that I'm sober enough to drive home at eight thirty when it's finished.
Hubby's been difficult about it every week; the first week he rang at least three times demanding that I get home immediately to put little Son to bed. He was having trouble enforcing his No Rules Policy by the sound of it and taking out his lack of parental ability on Me because I had dared to go out for longer than two hours. The irony was that before I'd gone out he had been at the pub Himself for three...
Do I ring him and up and demand he get his drunken arse home? No. I actually enjoy the peace when he's not here. I can watch my 'crap' television programs that he hates so much without interruption...
So he goes for a beer with Twink and Mac about five o'clock. I know he had no intention of being home by six thirty. About a quarter past I messaged him and asked if he was ready to come home yet; he messaged back that they'd all just won a Trifecta and wouldn't be home for a while.
Fine.
So in order to prove that I'm the one who has the 'partying-too-much problem' he decides to stay out until ten o'clock himself. When he got home he went straight to bed and so didn't fully appreciate the fact that I'd neglected to make him any dinner; there hadn't seemed much point with the eldest Son at Grandma's for the night and little Son was content with a toasted sandwich. And I'd been too pissed off to be hungry...
I slept on the couch.
The next morning it was business as usual. I drove him to work in stony silence; still fuming about last night's events. I admit I didn't have my mind fully on the road. That's when I inched my tyre over the merge lane and was clipped by the truck...
And in answer to His obvious question- No; I didn't see it coming.
I spent most of the day trying to track down a quote from a panel-beater; only for Hubby to tell me we wouldn't be forking out money we didn't have to when we could just buy the parts from the Commodore shop and he'll put them on himself. As long as it's done within the next few days I'll be happy; the last thing I need is a defect notice on a banged-up car that I haven't even paid for yet.
Still; there was good news from the assessors of XIP- and we've agreed on a price and I will be getting the cheque next week and we can get on top of these problems. Right?
Not quite...
Hubby wasn't impressed with the payout. He barely listened when I told him I'd managed to talk them up a thousand dollars on the original figure they offered. These little accidents of mine were costing him a fortune. What was I thinking- almost running into a truck?
Well I told him; actually- I was thinking how shitty I was at You for fucking up my trivia night.
Then it got a bit nasty and heated for the duration of the car-ride home. Little Son was yelling at us to Shut Up and telling Me to call the police on Daddy. I stopped at the pub- ran in and gave Mac five dollars to buy me some tickets in the Fishing Club raffle; when I got back to the car Hubby was on the phone with Twink; organising to go and have a beer. I got in and started the car. He asked for some of 'his' money. I told him No. He was staying home with little Son and I was going to play Trivia with General Havoc tonight seeing as I had missed out on playing with MR J on Tuesday. I drove home as he ranted away at me.
I started cooking tea; I've never gone out without first making dinner for Him and the kids. I thought he was outside feeding the dog. But He'd shot through.To the pub. Without saying a word...
My Text: Ooh aren't you funny. Never mind I'll just pay eldest Son fifty bucks to babysit.
His Text: Don't push your luck.
My Text: Be back by seven or I'm locking the door and if by chance you decide to kick the door in again I'll do whatever little Son tells Me don't be a prick your whole life it's only trivia.
His Text: I won't be coming home again.
My Text: Okay suit yourself.
Then; half an hour later...
My Text: In the next day or so we are going to have to sit down and talk about this; if this is over for real we still have shit to discuss; I don't want this to end nasty; call me when you are ready to talk.
I didn't lock the door; He'd said he wasn't coming home so I didn't bother.
He walked in at ten o'clock. Ate the leftovers. Went to bed. Without a word.
And I slept on the couch...
I don't think I've ever told you my Hubby's real name- but it starts with J. Now go back and read the title of this post.
Pretty apt hey?
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