A note about relationships and neuroses

I don’t often get sentimental, but I’m feeling it today.  You know your relationship is pretty solid when both partners can have neurotic breaks in the same 24 hour period and support one another as they are forced to the brink of tears to face neurotic fears.

Stardate: Yesterday afternoon.
I had been having crazy stress/panic attacks/my life is ending/I’m hopeless I don’t deserve a life in the first place…things…I was going crazy because grad school has ruined me.  But then, boyfriend is like “Hey!  Let’s go to Navy Pier and ride the Ferris Wheel!”  I was skeptical and gave him a shifty-eyed look because he’s terrified of heights (ok, in his words, he “Does’t like” them or he “Respects” them).  But he took me out to breakfast and we went on the Ferris Wheel!   Now, this sounds super fun and relaxing, and, to me, it was!  But the entire like  ride up, he was cringing.  White knuckled to the side of the seat, eyes closed, doing some breathing exercises the whole way up.  I was trying to be supportive and happy at the same time because I FUCKING LOVE FERRIS WHEELS.  Once we hit the top and began the descent, he loosened up and was jolly again, cracking jokes about how people belong on the ground and how we don’t respect gravity in our hedonistic culture.  It was a sweet little moment.  Then I bought him a much deserved margarita.

Stardate: Today, sometime this morning/afternoon-ish.
We were fully aware there was a mouse in our house.  This uninvited little fucker was driving our dog nuts.  The poor hound would just stand in the kitchen howling and pointing.  We knew something was wrong when we smelled death yesterday.  A full scale inspection of the kitchen was done following the dog’s lead and we finally found a dead mouse under the fridge.  Once boyfriend wrangled the dog into the bedroom (so as to not allow him to maul the dead creature for invading his home even though it totally deserved it!), this rodent, that had no right to exist in the first place, had to be disposed of.  Now, I fucking hate all pests.  I hate centipedes.  I hate earwigs.  I fucking hate mice.  I fucking fucking fucking HATE them.  But our maintenance guy was out of town and this was a two person job.  So, as boyfriend uses the broom handle to grab the disgusting, gross, piece of crap that calls itself an animal, I had to hold the dustpan with my double layered latex gloves.  Amid my shrill cries of disgust and shaking, he swept it onto the dustpan and I carried it out to the dumpster then ran away like a pansy.  He cleaned while I refused to touch him.

So now, boyfriend and I have seen each other at our lowest, most whiny, pathetic state–sober.  We’ve seen each other be neurotic and insecure when we’re drunk but that’s different.  I believe we are now stronger as a unit.

Also, the dog earned a beach hot dog for his hard work.  And!  On his way home, he killed a centipede in the apartment entry!  He is truly the Urban Hunting Hound.

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