Sickness and worry

I've been sick most of this week. Massive joint and muscle pain, and weakness. I started pulling out of it last night, so today I'm back at work, catching up on all the cockamamie shit people have been doing in my absence.

I don't think I hate anything worse than when some random guy out in our regional offices cobbles up some Microsoft Visual Basic app that provides links to shit that already exist on my system, and because it's "new" everybody goes apeshit over it and asks "why doesn't YOUR system do this?"

Hey, dorks, it already DOES all that stuff, and that guy has it easy. He doesn't have to maintain any content himself, he just links to mine! And who the hell writes EXE programs to link to websites, anyway? I suspect he just got back from Visual Studio training or something and wanted to try out his coding.

It was much better when the "management" around here was primarily technical. These current people don't know a good solution from a hole in the ground.

It's coming down to less than two months before we get married, and I am having more nagging doubts about it. Because of everything we've spent on cats and rabbits and other unplanned stuff, we can't really afford it. But I don't give a shit about that... what worries me more is Suzanne's underlying... self. Sometimes she gets this narcissistic, vindictive tone when I call her on being passive-aggressive about stuff. And she still has a bad habit of just being, for lack of a better word, a dope. Unobservant, un-perceptive, forgetful about anything she doesn't deem important to herself. She lacks thoroughness (don't ever ask her to rinse out a dish, do it yourself if you actually want it clean).

I already know she needs lots of support. I can give that. But on the other hand, I actually expect adults to be able to run the world. Don't know how to check your own oil? Learn. Never heard of a particular product or illness or thing? Google it. Don't like your job? Do something about it.

The trait that got me about my ex-wife, and also about Melody and a couple of other women I've known over the last few years, is that what's important to them is *vitally* important. What's important to me can go pound shit. Suzanne actually woke me up at 3am to announce that I'd forgotten to give one of the cats her prednisone. Since she has a morning dose coming up at 6:30 or 7, it didn't seem wise to give her that last missed dose. But Suzanne grumbled about that for a while.

Compare and contrast: I have been telling her continuously for a year now, "don't let the cats out."

She looks at me stupidly for the 37th time. "Bert got out."

"No," I tell her, "you LET him out."

"Don't leave Max in the bathroom after you're done, he'll eat Tucker's special food."

Sure enough, I'll go in the bathroom 90 minutes later, and Max will still be in there, hunched over the food bowl.

It's like she just doesn't listen. There's just no way I can make anything clear enough for her short of using a Taser to make the statement or request more memorable.

I shouldn't have to do that with an adult.

I'm not much, but I know how to operate the things of my life. I know how to find out things I don't already know. I know how to avoid creating more problems. I screw things up once in a while, and I learn how to fix them and avoid them in the future. Either Suzanne doesn't have those skills, or she had them and lost them somewhere. I am not sure I can re-teach them because I am actually not sure she wants to learn.

If I wanted to marry a 12-year-old, I'd have married Melody. But I avoided that error.

Thus, I am worried about all this.