2018.02.13

Passed another mile-marker yesterday. Pulled up to the teller's window, gave MW the deposit slip, and she could not remember our bank number. This is a number she has had committed to memory for years. Something she uses at least once a week - often more - as she obsessively checks the balance over the automated phone system.

But yesterday it would not come to her when she needed it.

And worse than Huntington's Disease march to this higher ground was watching MW react to the new normal. The expressions on her face quickly running from curious to bewilderment until they settled upon furious. After the teller looked up our account through my driver's license and handed me the receipt, MW snatched it out of my hand and said, "Goddamnit, I knew it! I knew that number!" then violently crushed the paper and threw it aside.

***

Speaking of; "settling upon furious" has become the default around Casa Muncie. MW flies into a rage over everything, anything, nothing. She usually turns it around pretty quickly, apologizes, blames it on not being able to find work, but it leaves scars.

The other day, while helping her fill out applications, she came upon a very, very foolish employer who posed the question: What is unique about you? Impress us! 

MW demanded I provide her with something impressive. I gave a safe platitude; something along the lines of "I'm great with customers and a loyal employee".

This infuriated MW. I wasn't even trying, she claimed. Then she went on an extended rant about how she's unique because all the hardships she'd been through and on and on. When I tried - gently - to bring her back to the reality that the employer wasn't really looking for all that, she exploded. She said she hated me. Called me evil. Regretted every day we'd spent married. Then asked if I wanted a divorce.

To my shame, I said; sure, why not? After all, if I'm evil and you hate me...?

She eventually walked it back - sort of - but damage done. 

***

Another example: last night after getting off work, MW wanted to go walking around the mall. I asked her if I could use the bathroom at one of the department stores. She stormed away, furious that I hadn't thought to use the bathroom before leaving the office. It isn't safe, using public restrooms, and I'd ruined the whole night just by asking. 

Quite literally, it's gotten to the point where I can't even take a piss without pissing MW off.

***

As I said before; this will be the year when MW can no longer hide from the reality. Her movements have gotten very rough. Even when she's just trying to touch me, it's like getting slapped. When she grabs my arm, it's like a wrestling move. And, as always, she can't eat without the food going all over the place. 

Add to that forgetting every-day information like the account number and the fact that nobody - and I mean nobody: she's even lowered herself to applying at retail stores - will hire her once they've seen her.... I have to believe this is it.

***

I gave up drinking for lent. Again. Yesterday I pushed the whole Fat Tuesday a little far, so I'm fuzzy and achy right now. Going to be a long 40.