Priorities (Please).

In case I haven't mentioned it before, my husband doesn't ask me many questions about me or my day, even when I have something exciting going on - particularly when he is drinking more than usual.  As soon as he walks in the door from work, he goes straight upstairs, doesn't say hello until I do, doesn't speak to me until spoken to.

This weekend I was asked three questions:

1. Would I please rub the knots out of his shoulders and lower back? (I did - he's been kind enough to get my coffee in the morning, I feel we can still do nice things for each other).

2. Would I want to drive to our soon-to-be town to look at prospective neighborhoods?

3. When did I drink my bottle of champagne?


Now, the first question was asked after a lot of passive-aggressive grumbling about his back and how much it hurt. It was nice to be asked directly for a massage for once - Gotta reward good communication, even if self-interested.

The second question really only makes sense, but as most things with us aren't making any sense at all these days it was a welcome surprise.  Unfortunately (or fortunately) I wasn't able to go as I had plans to meet with someone regarding my venture.  Hurrah for me!

Lastly, the third question - for this to make sense, you need a little background info.

For my birthday last year, my good friend gave me a bottle of champagne.  This was just shy of my first month in Al Anon, but I knew well enough to not drink the bottle with my husband.  I didn't want to enable, and really it was that drinking around him just felt icky.  So I waited, then forgot it was there for the most part.

It's been almost a year later, and just this last Wednesday, after a friend and I both received some awesome news regarding our respective ventures, I brought my champagne to a meeting we had scheduled to celebrate.

There were a good three days this week of Big Exciting Stuff that my husband never asked me a thing about. So, no:

"How did Big Exciting Stuff go today?"

"Do you have everything together for your Big Exciting Stuff?"

Or even,

"Hey congrats on your Big Exciting Stuff!"

And of course, still no interest in how my mom is recuperating.

But four days after it went missing, after he came home from his neighborhood-shopping without a word to me about where we may soon be living, and after I told him I was going to bed, my husband walked up our stairs to find me to ask me when I had drank my champagne.

Let me repeat that -

He walked upstairs to find me to ask when I had drank my champagne.

So I told him.

Without response, he turned around and went back downstairs.