i'm pleading pregnancy

Today was a BAD day. We woke up, had cereal for breakfast, then started with chores. I cleaned the bath tub and took the stuff out from under the sink since we were having mandatory plumber visit today. Dave's job was to strip our bed and wash it, which he did...after asking me a million times (maybe 3) if that was all he needed to put in the wash, then figuring out that since it was going to be a small load, he could add in more clothes (he grabbed his clothes ONLY). The plumbers came earlier than expected, so we decided to take two bookcases to his parent's house so it wouldn't be sitting in our entrance anymore. Here's where the BAD started...

I volunteer to drive so that Dave can monitor the bookcases in the backseat since I know he gets super paranoid that they're going to fall over and crack the back window. But then I get in the passenger seat because he seems to have it figured out. He decides he's going to pull over, which I assume means he's going to let me drive, but he tells me to stay in the passenger seat, he gets out, rearranges some things, and then proceeds to drive again. I'm irraz at this point because I don't see why he doesn't just let me drive...we go all the way up Kaonohi, only to realize there's a detour which basically takes us all the way down the hill again. Anyways, I make a comment about his driving, he gets pissed, we deliver the bookcases, and as we come back down the hill I try to explain what I was pissed about, and we argue about our miscommunication.

Then we go to school. He is obsessed with going to his classroom to get a copy of his syllabus even though I'm sure it's saved on the computer...and even though I know that it's not going to get worked on before Friday anyways. We arrange my classroom, and since I'm still pissy, my request for his help with different things doesn't come out too nicely...but he obliges and we get it done.

We go to Times, where I proceed to drop the broccoli and potato on the ground...which is only a signal of more dropping and breaking that is to come today.

We come home and I proceed to make lunch (ramen) for us. I cut up the broccoli, put it aside, then cut up the spam. In the meantime, the dishes in the sink from last night and this morning are driving me nutts so I decide to wash them, all the while wondering why Dave doesn't just wash it when he puts it in there. I move the cutting board and spam to balance precariously on the sink, knowing even as I do it that this is a bad idea and envisioning it falling over...which it does. I yell, Dave comes over and keeps asking me what happened, and I think, duh, can't you see the freakin spam in the sink? He tries to hug me, which I push away.

As I'm slamming the dishes while washing them, I manage to fully break a glass, which pisses me off even more.

I finish making our lunch, we sit down, silently, to eat, and then I realize I can't even eat cuz I'm so irraz. So I stand up and ask Dave for a hug, which luckily he agrees to give me cuz if not I might have flipped the damn ramen on his lap. We eat, but I can't even finish my ramen, which disgusts me some more.

Finally I lay down, Dave puts on "Strange Wilderness" (totally HIS pick on Netflix) and I proceed to fall asleep, while Dave gets irraz at me cuz I never want to watch his movies (who the hell wants to watch "Strange Wilderness???). I get a good hour's nap in, Dave finishes his movie and starts to play baseball, and all is well...

Until it's 5:30 and I decide that instead of grabbing something to eat before our class, I should just make the shrimp curry that I intended to make and we can take that with us to class. Midway through (about 5:50) Dave tells me that we have to go because class starts at 6. I'm pissed because I think class starts at 6:30, but he insists so we argue about why he didn't say something earlier if class (which is at Queen's) starts at 6. He looks through paperwork and finds that I am right...I finish cooking, pack up our dinner, and we leave.

Which brings us to now. We get home from class, I tell Dave that I wish he wouldn't park so close to the ghetto van, and he proceeds to make excuses. I yell, we argue, and I proceed to slam around in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes and wondering why Dave's first move once we get in the house is to turn on the tv and sit down. He knows I'm pissy and tells me that if I want help, open my mouth and ask for it instead of throwing a tantrum...

I plead pregnancy...