Monday, April 19, 2010

It was a beautiful time...

Spring had sprung, and the sun had been shining, and we'd had the first barbeque of the season.  I'd been taking pictures of fresh blooms, branches contrasting the blue-sky backgrounds, and making tiny steps with the roof-garden.  I was beginning to feel a little more like it was ok for me, like things were finally beginning to work for me.  Where last year this time I suffered a constant feeling of insecurity and worry, this year I felt... slightly more like I belonged and was even possibly welcome here.  I was thinking of building on things, investing myself a little more into the fabric of being here.


I was beginning to feel a little optimistic, I think...


Perhaps it was all just some sort of pleasant sunstroke-hallucination, feeling like things might be better.  Tonight I find myself in a confused state after what should have been a good evening was marred by the surprise arrival of a dark presence.  The "accountant" has returned.

Like a newborn pile of offal, it presented itself today, declaring with a strange almost-smugness that since I'd not yet calculated the cost of the vegetables and my brochette from yesterday's barbeque, I must have been secretly trying not to pay for myself.  Ah yes, and that Guinness last week wasn't free, you know.

.... (this was the moment where my thought bubble would have read only "WTF?")

I admit that though I did pay attention to the price of my Guinness when we went to the pub, I later forgot to pay (forgetting sometimes happens for us mortals, you know,) and am actually glad to have been reminded (I have said before that I am fine with, and rather prefer to pay my own way,) though I am not glad for the manner in which the reminder was delivered.  What bothers me most about this is the assumption being made about my character.  It is as though the worst possible, most illogical assumption about why a bill is not settled (that I am some kind of gold brochette-and-Guinness-digger,) MUST be the TRUTH.

If I weren't the one IN the situation, I'd be laughing at how very odd and horrid, and hilariously surreal the situation was, from my safe distance.  It is some unexpected and novel form of torture, a visit from the accountant.  However, since I'm in it let me just bring things back to reality for a moment...

To fill things in a little: we regularly hold onto receipts and settle up later at home.  Often the turnover on settling up is not more than 48 hours, simply because I don't like to leave things hanging.  I'm the one who does the figuring most of the time, and just in case of any doubts or questions, I stash the used receipts in a little nook, where they stay for a good month before they are recycled.  I do this because I prefer that there are no questions or doubts when it comes to the mingling of money.  I have always believed that love and money should be kept rather independent of each other.  Now, let me say that for all his accounting, the accountant is miserable at holding onto receipts.  Which is where our story begins and ends.

This morning at 5am before work, I could only find the receipt for the vegetables from the barbeque last night.  (As it turns out, the accountant LOST the other receipt.)  So, I decided that rather than doing something stupid like waking him up to ask him where the receipt for the butcher was, I'd wait until I saw him after work this evening to ask, so I could then make the calculation.

In the irrational network of his neurons, my failure to calculate and settle up despite the missing information needed to do so amounts to me being a swindler of sorts.  Part of me is amazed, really.  I am in awe of the giant gap in logic.  It is bridged, as near as I can tell, by some kind of irrational primevil instinct relating to territory and property which crackles and arcs across the gap like an electrical current.  My hair stands on end, and I feel it would be wise to back away, to distance myself for my own good.

Though I am frustrated, confused and disturbed, more than this I am crestfallen.

2 comments:

Alice said...

What is he afraid of?

Jessica said...

No idea. I've figured out a fair number of his behavioural quirks and as a result, know how to deal with them.

This one still stumps me. If I had to guess, there's something to do with not having control of his own situation, and (I think) some kind of issue related to an injustice(s) regarding loss/cheating out of of something he felt was his in younger years.

I notice as well, however, that I am one of the only women in his immediate familial circles who *doesn't* really play into the whole weaker-woman gender-role thing. I find it distasteful, unequal and unfair, how both the mother-figures in his life have 'profited from' their male-partners to an extreme in the financial area, and I know that this is something he also finds distasteful.

So maybe it's just a fear that I'll become that way, since it's what he has as examples of around him?

Chitika