May Peace Reign

We don't fight. There, I said it. We disagree. We roll our eyes at one another. We sometimes, rather passive aggressively say, "what's with this music?" (okay, maybe that should be "I," not "we"). One of us has been known to cry at the drop of a hat. We sometimes mope, sometimes quietly stew in our own juices. But then, we call each other out, but we don't raise our voices. I mean, don't get me wrong, Biker Boy has his share of moments of sheer exasperation because he has to deal with crazy me. Two examples of this come to mind.

On March 11, I woke up in severe intestinal discomfort. I thought that it was just some gas or something. So I took a shower, doubled over the whole time, and thought that I had to get through the day. I had a full day scheduled and didn't have time to get sick. As soon as I got out of the shower, I didn't towel off, but just put my robe on and crawled back into bed. I told Biker Boy that I didn't feel so good, but would get up in a few minutes. A few more minutes and I was moaning and clutching my abdomen in a pathetic way. But I told Biker Boy that I had classes to teach and there was no freaking way I was going to the Emergency Room.

I had been in some discomfort the night before and had run a steaming hot bath and sitting in the boiling hot water had helped. So I decided that maybe I would just let me TA run my class at the University and I would stay home and take a bath before going to my next job. The bath helped a lot. But as soon as I got out of the bath, I could feel the pain start again. I told Biker Boy I'd be fine, there was no need for us to go to the Emergency Room, and if he could just make me a cup of hot tea, I would be forever grateful. And he did make the tea. But while he was brewing it, pain like I have rarely felt before (the broken rib was fairly comparable) overtook me and I was on the ground. I was very dizzy and couldn't stand up. I yelled for Biker Boy (look! I raised my voice). He came in, took one look at me curled in a ball on the bathroom and said, "oh, no. We're going to the Emergency Room."

And we all know how that turned out. I had a kidney stone and we spent the better part of a nice, sunny day at the hospital and I got to experience the joy of morphine (!) for the first time. But it was one of the few times Biker Boy seriously wanted to kick my ass. Why didn't we just go to the ER to begin with? Well, I really wanted to teach those classes!!

And then yesterday, we went for a walk. On the way we passed a cemetery and one of the signs on the wrought iron fence was broken, but not in a normal way, like a car had hit it or like a baseball bat had been taken to it. More like a sticker that was halfway peeled off. So BB wondered out loud what had happened to it. The following "conversation" took place:

"Maybe a bear mauled it."

"You know, other things maul besides bears."

"Maybe a rhino mauled it."

"Mmmmmmm..." (a sound BB makes when he doesn't agree or disagree)

"Maybe," I'm thinking as fast as I can, "Maybe a mammoth mauled it."

"I find that to be highly unlikely."

"What? Mammoths are bad asses."

"They are also all dead."

"That's what they want you to believe."

"Who's they?"

"People."

"What people?"

"The ones who want you to believe mammoths are dead."

"Why do they want us to believe mammoths are dead?"

"So they can keep their jobs."

"So it's a big conspiracy among paleontologists and museum curators?"

"Exactly."

"I find that hard to believe."

"That's what they want you to think."

At this point, Biker Boy rolled his eyes and kept moving. Because what else are you going to do when you are engaged to be married to a CRAZY PERSON? But, but, but, that is not important. The important thing is that we each know that the way to deal with the other is to mock them, not yell.

So it really quite distressing to me when I come home and our downstairs neighbors are constantly yelling at each other. Maybe they are just loud talkers, but their voices are always raised. And, since we do get to hear these "discussions," I'll let you know that there is some severe discord among the two of them about three topics: sex, cleaning, and the use of organic matter to create ethanol. In the last 24 hours, fights over these topics have broken out and I have BEEN ABLE TO HEAR THEM. Anyway, these folks glare at us when they see us. Yesterday I asked Biker Boy why Peter and Janet don't like us. He said, "either they think we're loud upstairs neighbors or they know that we know they are unhappy and they don't like that we know it."

So, keeping all this in mind, yesterday I was also at Target (man, I got around yesterday, didn't I? I also WORKED. Hee). See, one of my friends from high school had a baby on Thursday and I had to find some adorable baby-related things to buy her. Like this and assorted books for babies.

I am a new baby girl! Whee!! Look at me!! My face is quite pink!

ANYWAY, I'm at Target. And this particular store has the Men's Clothes right across from baby items. And this guy is yelling at his wife in the middle of the store. About what kind of shirt to buy. And, this is why I am CRAZY, I immediately start crying. Clearly, I look like I am very early on in some pregnancy, which explains why I am crying in the infant section of the store. I'm sure the woman looking at me crying as I look at layette sets while listening to this man totally verbally bitchslap his wife thought I was INSANE or pregnant. And possibly I am the first, but not the second.

So, I guess I'm just wondering if this is the way things are? Do people argue? My parents fight all the time, but I always thought that it was an aberration and that most loving couples rarely fought? Will Biker Boy and I someday break out into fights in the middle of Target? Someday will BB just stop stopping the argument when I start crying? Will we argue about barley and corn ethanol at the top of our lungs? Or have I just had a string of bad luck, running into unhappy couples who need to reevaluate their communication skills? I really hope it's the latter because that little baby should know that her future will not involve screaming all the time.