My wife and I went out to dinner on Friday evening. Perhaps the occasion was to mark the passage of two months since we last, uh, "renewed our nuptials." (It's easy to say "have sex" when I'm addressing the abstract; a bit harder when referring to my marriage specifically.) Perhaps it was Thai because somehow we knew that was the only way we could add any spice to the relationship.
The occasion became more argument than anything else, as we chose to use the time to "work through" a handful of agenda and summer itinerary checklist things. And the occasion served to remind me that the more I try to work through issues with my wife, the less I want to be married to her, and the less I want to raise these precious children with her. I was reminded of this latter point again today during lunch, as she drilled into the two eldest kids for their behavior during Sacrament Meeting -- because we are so utterly unhappy with each other, she and I bring out the worst parenting instincts in each other, and the kids suffer as a result.
Last night as I put on my pyjamas after the end of a day heaving on circumstantial and relationship frustration, I looked into our bedroom mirror and exclaimed aloud, "What the f*ck am I living for!?" Having heard at some impressionable point that Satan can't know our thoughts directly but can only infer them from our words and actions, I always feel a bit edgy when articulating something like that aloud (or in writing, such as here), which seems to add to the cathartic effect.
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