Victoria broke my brain.
I came home yesterday on the 3pm ferry, and was home by 5:30. Things were going swell – the cats were completely ambivalent to my return, Ed had done the dishes and bought some Diet Coke for me, there were hilarious books and silver shoes waiting for me on my desk. It was very nice to be home. There may have been naked times. All was good.
A little later, there was hunger. We decided to meet the crew at the Raven in Deep Cove for some eating, but when we got there, we learned that an entire baseball army had descended upon the Raven and they were packed to the point of turning people away at the door because they were over capacity. Not one to ever cause fire hazards simply by being in a bar, Ed and I discussed Plan B while I texted back and forth with Shan to see what the consensus was.
And then my brain completely fucking broke.
The “what do you feel like eating?” “I dunno, what do you want?” “I dunno, what do YOU want?” argument has got to be one of my least favourite things ever. I made several suggestions to Ed, who didn’t like any of them and I was quickly getting frustrated – I was hungry and tired and unbeknownst to me, completely fucking mental in the brain. After several minutes of going back and forth trying to figure out what Ed WOULD eat as opposed to what he didn’t want, I lost it in an epic fashion. I was letting my frustration be known in a constructive way (raising my voice and getting slightly hysterical) when everything just .. exploded. I ended up sitting in the car in the parking lot of White Spot, sobbing my eyes out and wailing something about “4 days .. 4 days of this ..”. I scared Ed. I scared myself. I couldn’t stop crying – I was completely broken.
Eventually I wore myself out, and I cleaned myself up enough to go inside to join the others. I think the last week was harder on me than I realized – seriously, I’m not normally prone to freaking out like that – but I felt a little better afterwards. I’m glad to be home. Here, no one makes me buy them lunch twice because “wonton soup” isn’t the same as “wonton noodles” or bitch at me for 5 minutes straight because I didn’t get a fork the first time ’round.