Cohabitating in a space that is not even the size of a decent walk-in closet has its challenges! I don’t care how much you love and care for someone – when you exist in a space big enough to hold your wardrobe, nerves will be tested. Add in the fact that Aboy and I are both cut from the same sarcastic cloth – it makes for some snipey exchanges.
It’s all good – it’s not like the early days where I’d say “Let me out!” and he’d pull the car over and say “Get the fuck out!”… now it’s more like – silence. I did mention I’m an only child, right? I’ve mastered the silent treatment. I have pouting, tantrums and determination (a hint of hard-head) in my arsenal too and I’m NEVER afraid to use them. Getting my way is the ultimate goal – I have a competitive personality so the goal is to win! Plus now that I’m older, I know which battles are worth picking.
Let me give you an example.
It’s July. We’re driving through the south. We stop in West Memphis, Arkansas and we are literally 5 miles from the Mississippi River. We are going to call West Memphis home for the night. We pulled into the truck stop around 7 pm. There were puddles on the ground – which looked like at some point during the day, they had got a substantial rain fall. We’re in the south which means - rain PLUS heat EQUALS humidity, right?
Aboy finds the perfect spot. We’re in Garden City if you put us on the Long Island to City commute scale. We’ve got grass and neighbors but, we’re not living on top of anyone. Cool, right? I didn’t get to the good part, that’s why! Aboy decides since it’s in the high 70’s, we should sleep with the windows open.
We’re settled into the parking spot. Aboy shuts off the truck. Now, for an hour or so – heat is going to rise through the floor of the truck as the engine cools. I have a screen that fits (and locks) into my window, so I put the screen in. As I open the window – I can feel a gush of humid air. I say to Aboy: “Wow, it’s really humid!” to which he replies “that’s just the hot air coming off the truck”.
I have kids – 4 to be exact. I understand - they think I was born yesterday – but I’ve been with Aboy for 23 years… he KNOWS I’m not a dumbass. I’m not a meteorologist, but I know what humidity is – I grew up on Long Island for cripes sake! So, we had a little heated exchange, then a little silence - no biggie.
We walk to get some dinner and come back about an hour later. It is hotter than an oven in the truck – but I don’t say nothing (I don’t know what I’m talking ‘bout, remember?). The little breeze that is kicking around is sticky, add in the heat coming up from the floor of the truck, and 2 fat asses… the conditions are deteriorating quickly (but I still don’t say nothing).
I can tell Aboy is trying to prove a point – but he cannot stand to be sticky when it’s time to go to bed. He washes off to get the stickiness off of him – which lasts all of about 30 minutes.
I’m going with it. He’s trying to prove a point and my silence is screaming mine – I’m just waiting for him to admit that I am right.
Another 30 minutes pass and Aboy finally gives in and turns the truck on – so we can run the Air Conditioner. I win!
We wake up in the morning and there is dew dripping on the outside of the windows (that’s how humid the air is). We walked into the truck stop, took a shower and got coffee. When I walked from inside the truck stop to outside, my glasses had fog on them. BUT he’s still insisting it’s not that humid.
I just laughed and rolled my eyes.