Sunday, February 19, 2012

Okay, I grouse almost continually about my wife. Now I don't know if she was drunk this morning or just pissed. "Whatever," as they say in the vernacular. She went into a screaming jag about moving and moving to a smaller place. And, given the fact that I have come to know over the past years that she is remarkably "entitled" and clearly a narcissist, it all gets personal with her: There's no calming her down.


 

Jeez, we went to a place half the size of the house we rented and I understand the space issue. However, the apartment is 1400 square feet. It's three bedrooms and a couple of baths and in my view, quite lovely.


 

I spent the morning unpacking about ten boxes for the kitchen: Everything from flatware to food, from small appliances to dishes. Ten bloody boxes, while she slept in. What does she do, starts screaming where she wants everything.


 

And then she screams about not having enough room for her "stuff." By that I mean her cosmetics and clothes. Hell, she has more clothes than any woman I've ever known. So many, in fact, that we used one bedroom in the house from which we moved as a "closet." Yes, she has that many clothes.


 

And then there's the kitchen: I couldn't believe that we had three of four jars of mustard, all the same kind.


 

I have a lot of "stuff," mostly books, more than a dozen boxes of 'em into storage. But really, my office had shelves for them and I have little else in terms of "voluntary" stuff.


 

Moving's not easy for anyone. However, this sort of behavior is so telling of a person. She's simply never really grown up; and is narcissistic in every sense of the work.


 

Alas, I have often written that it's a bit late in the game for a divorce…but maybe this will be a tipping point for her, and me.


 

I like this place…I'm a New Yorker and perhaps it's genetic. Apartments are my kind of living space.