Kirk was at his pool league, so I was home alone yet again on a Tuesday night. (Tuesday night is the scariest night of the week, not exactly sure why, but shit always seems to go down on a Tuesday) Around 10pm I set the alarm and tried to go to bed. I was creeping myself out because of what my mom said, and every little noise made me pull the cover higher up over my head (because nothing can hurt me under the covers, it’s a fact). I finally dozed off, and of course I had a dream about zombies (which is my usual nightmare, I hate zombies like woah). Around 1am the alarm goes off. I have a full on freak out. My heart is going 100 miles an hour and Buster is barking, which only makes things worse, it’s like “Hey, I’m back here with my stubby legged dog, come rape me!”. So I grab Kirks gun (yes, I know, me with a gun, hah-freaking-hah) and go into the kitchen. It takes me a minute to figure out what’s going on, but after I punch in the code to stop the wailing siren I figure out what triggered the alarm. It turns out that the wind was so gusty that it blew the kitchen door open (the door that leads out to the garage, which I never lock because the garage is always closed). The wind was so strong it actually blew through the cracks in the garage, and opened the shut kitchen door. I called Kirk and told him what had happened. He was drunk as usual and didn’t understand the situation. I was crying hysterically and just hung up on him.
I tried to go back to sleep, dozed off for a good 5 minutes, and then the door bell r
ang. Buster starts barking again. I go to the door, look through the peep hole, and see that it’s a policeman. He asks about the alarm and I tell him that it was just a wind gust that blew open the door, and he said he would still check out the area just in case. I say thank you and try to go back to bed, again. I start to doze off and then you-know-who comes home and wakes me up. He jumps on the bed and lands on top of me (which he only does when he’s drunk, when he’s sober he knows better). I say “Kirk, the party’s not still going on. Sleep on the couch or I WILL kill you!” He says “Baby is mean to the baby” and pouts. I ask if he’s drunk (because we have an agreement about the drinking and driving), and he says “Baby’s not drunk!” in a Chris Rock-ish voice. I start crying because at this point I’m so frustrated with everything that’s happened, I don’t have the energy to deal with the drinking and driving issue. I’m starting to come mentally un-glued.
He goes into the living room after I throw the remote at him. I bury my head in my pillow, still sobbing uncontrollably. I fall asleep, again, and of course the door bell rings, again. Buster starts barking… again. It rings a second time and I’m so pissed off I could shit. I storm into the living room and see that Kirk is passed out on the couch, not realizing someone is at the door. I look through the hole and it’s Kirk’s dad, yippie! He asks if everything is ok because he got a call from the alarm company that the alarm was triggered. He apologizes for coming over so late, but said that he’d called Kirk a few times with no answer and was worried. I tell him that everything is fine and explain what happened. He asked where Kirk was during all this. I tell him that Tuesday is his pool league, and that he goes out to the bar afterwards and usually comes home when it closes. He said “Kirk was out until 2 am on a Tuesday? “ I say “Yep, that’s how late he’s out every Tuesday.” His dad looks perplexed, and then walks over to the couch to wake up Kirk. I push on him and tell him to wake up because his dad is here, it takes a few tries but he finally opens his eyes. I tell him that I can’t deal with this right now because I have to be up in 3 hours and I have class tomorrow night. His dad says he’ll talk to Kirk, and I could tell he was more than pissed off than worried at this point (he drove from Edmond at 3am in the rain).
I go to bed. I’m too tired to be upset at this point. Kirk comes in the bedroom after his dad leaves. He pulls off my covers, mumbles something incoherently, farts, burps, and then kicks me. I’d had it at this point. I push him out of bed, and he’s lucky I don’t go WWF on his ass. Of course he lays there for a minute, not realizing what had just happened. Then he says “Fuck you bitch, we’re fucking done. Get the fuck out of my house!” slurring as he spits out that lovley sentiment. I say “No problem, I’ll be out by the weekend” and then he walks out of the bedroom. I hear him pissing and flailing about in the bathroom. He comes back in when he’s done, crawls in bed, and snuggles up to me and says “I love the baby" I guess he forgot what just happened in the 2 minutes it took him to go to the bathroom, but whatever, I’m too tired to give a rats ass.
This morning I woke up extremely groggy and irritated. I can already tell this is going to be a long, shitty day. A guy cut me off on the way to work and I started crying, thus proving that theory. I’m glad Kirk is leaving tomorrow for a week, I need some time to think through these recent events (not just last night, see my other blogs for more detail). I feel like I should get paid for babysitting when he acts like that. Like my friend Tracy said, “Throw in a couple of kids in the mix and then put up with him acting that way. “ She makes a good point.
I tried to go back to sleep, dozed off for a good 5 minutes, and then the door bell r
ang. Buster starts barking again. I go to the door, look through the peep hole, and see that it’s a policeman. He asks about the alarm and I tell him that it was just a wind gust that blew open the door, and he said he would still check out the area just in case. I say thank you and try to go back to bed, again. I start to doze off and then you-know-who comes home and wakes me up. He jumps on the bed and lands on top of me (which he only does when he’s drunk, when he’s sober he knows better). I say “Kirk, the party’s not still going on. Sleep on the couch or I WILL kill you!” He says “Baby is mean to the baby” and pouts. I ask if he’s drunk (because we have an agreement about the drinking and driving), and he says “Baby’s not drunk!” in a Chris Rock-ish voice. I start crying because at this point I’m so frustrated with everything that’s happened, I don’t have the energy to deal with the drinking and driving issue. I’m starting to come mentally un-glued.He goes into the living room after I throw the remote at him. I bury my head in my pillow, still sobbing uncontrollably. I fall asleep, again, and of course the door bell rings, again. Buster starts barking… again. It rings a second time and I’m so pissed off I could shit. I storm into the living room and see that Kirk is passed out on the couch, not realizing someone is at the door. I look through the hole and it’s Kirk’s dad, yippie! He asks if everything is ok because he got a call from the alarm company that the alarm was triggered. He apologizes for coming over so late, but said that he’d called Kirk a few times with no answer and was worried. I tell him that everything is fine and explain what happened. He asked where Kirk was during all this. I tell him that Tuesday is his pool league, and that he goes out to the bar afterwards and usually comes home when it closes. He said “Kirk was out until 2 am on a Tuesday? “ I say “Yep, that’s how late he’s out every Tuesday.” His dad looks perplexed, and then walks over to the couch to wake up Kirk. I push on him and tell him to wake up because his dad is here, it takes a few tries but he finally opens his eyes. I tell him that I can’t deal with this right now because I have to be up in 3 hours and I have class tomorrow night. His dad says he’ll talk to Kirk, and I could tell he was more than pissed off than worried at this point (he drove from Edmond at 3am in the rain).
I go to bed. I’m too tired to be upset at this point. Kirk comes in the bedroom after his dad leaves. He pulls off my covers, mumbles something incoherently, farts, burps, and then kicks me. I’d had it at this point. I push him out of bed, and he’s lucky I don’t go WWF on his ass. Of course he lays there for a minute, not realizing what had just happened. Then he says “Fuck you bitch, we’re fucking done. Get the fuck out of my house!” slurring as he spits out that lovley sentiment. I say “No problem, I’ll be out by the weekend” and then he walks out of the bedroom. I hear him pissing and flailing about in the bathroom. He comes back in when he’s done, crawls in bed, and snuggles up to me and says “I love the baby" I guess he forgot what just happened in the 2 minutes it took him to go to the bathroom, but whatever, I’m too tired to give a rats ass.
This morning I woke up extremely groggy and irritated. I can already tell this is going to be a long, shitty day. A guy cut me off on the way to work and I started crying, thus proving that theory. I’m glad Kirk is leaving tomorrow for a week, I need some time to think through these recent events (not just last night, see my other blogs for more detail). I feel like I should get paid for babysitting when he acts like that. Like my friend Tracy said, “Throw in a couple of kids in the mix and then put up with him acting that way. “ She makes a good point. 
