I've gone over and over and round and round in my mind and can't seem to make heads or tails of it. I used to think maybe he suffered from short term memory loss, but ruled that out because if I tell him something like "hey, let's watch the game tonight", he'd nag me and remind me of my commitment right up until kick off or tip off or what have you (this is solely a metaphor. I would never really ask him to watch a game). I also ruled out that he did too much acid in the sixties, since I realized he would have been a very small child then. Maybe he just doesn't give two hoots about what I have to say? I can't believe that could be, since I consider myself a person who has plenty of interesting things to say...hummmm...maybe I'm the only one that sees myself this way.
I don't know. I need help with this because it's very frustrating. Most of the people that read my blog know, I've worked at the Scrapbook Store for the past 7 years and pretty much work with the same people, and talk about them ALL THE TIME, yet, the other day when I told him Debbie and Donna were in charge of the weekend krop that the store put on last weekend, he said, "Really? Who's that? Oh, Debbie works at the Scrapbook Store?" I wanted to hit him right there and then...REALLY HARD! I've been talking to him on numerous occasions about this, because I usually run the krop, and didn't have to this year, and Debbie has worked there for years. What the hell??? Another good one was when after we were talking about Bella Blvd a few weeks ago, he says to me, "Tell me again exactly what "Bella" is". WHAT???? I've only been working and doing projects for the company for the past two years! What really kills me, is he can come home from work (he's got about 400 employees) and tell me a story that includes several people, and if I don't remember everyones name, rank and serial number, I'm accused of not caring about him and what he goes through throughout the day.
Sorry for my rambling, but I just don't get it!
Here's another gem. I tell Paul this past Monday that I had to go into the Scrapbook Store to drop something off and I said I'd be back within the hour. I get to the store and my phone rings. Guess who it is? And guess what he wants? Yep, you guessed it. He wants to know where I am. I wanted to reach through the phone line ( I guess I mean cel tower) and strangle him. I hang up the phone and tell my friend, Cheryl my situation and she proceeds to tell me this:
So, I guess I'm not the only one. And I guess I'll still be looking for the answer 25 years from now, if he lives that long.