I didn't sleep well at all the night before last. I don't know why other than the fact that I just wasn't tired. I read in a yoga book once that if you are not able to fall asleep quickly you should get up and stay up until your body feels really tired. I should have just gotten up... I didn't. I read. (Chuck Palahniuk's Damned. Hilarious read if you don't get queasy easily). I got up to let the cat out of the room. I laid back down. I tossed. Turned. Nothing.
The next day I get up knowing full well I'd be a terror to live with. Ian and I get in a fairly major argument about moving my piano out of my studio, just as I feared we would when I mentioned the idea. We fought just about all day. I was angry. Well, my inner artist was angry. My inner artist was stamping her feet demanding attention. She felt jaded and ignored. She felt this and that... if you are an artist, maybe you have these issues too? Or am I schizophrenic? Is it wrong to want room for my easel in my studio of which there was none while the piano held centre stage?
I get that way. I get that way and nobody gets it. Especially not Ian. It seems to be a great affront to me (as an artist) when I cannot get my husband to share my vision with me even if I've never fully articulated what it is I really want. Which is really stupid of me. A recipe for a crappy day.
How unreasonable of me to want him to understand me even when I don't understand myself, right? Is it that or the lack of sleep that awakened my ire or am I wandering in the realms of solitude based upon my needs as an artistic genius? I don't know. Truly. (Kidding... I'm KIDDING!)
Eventually I mustered the humbleness to admit I was being a brat (and I was). I apologized. So did he. But the whole day was a wash. It couldn't end soon enough as far as I was concerned.
This morning I woke from about 6 hours of sleep feeling rested and ready for the morning. I sloughed the previous day off of my mind like so much dead skin. I started moving the piano by myself because in the grand sense of the word, the piano is fairly small. It moves relatively easily. It wasn't long before Ian decided to help me out (I have my ways of getting what I want in the end don't I?) and I tell you, it took less--LESS--than five minutes to move it. It moved easily.
We wasted the whole day over a five minute job. Wow. Couples, beware. Fights can erupt over the most ridiculous things. Take 50% of the blame, at least. Always.
Anyway. In other news... I bought myself a matryoshka doll straight from Moscow and it arrived Monday. I love these things... there seems to be nothing more delightful than that little baby at the centre of the stack.
I love family. I love my family. I love everything thought these dolls conjure. These are brilliant toys.