Rough Night

Steve bought some new pants last week. He asked me to wash them, and I said sure. Apparently I missed a pair. I thought that his new ones were all hanging up the next morning so I washed them or whatever. We also have a coat hanger thing in our bedroom that is a collection pile for his clothes. Usually when pants are hanging up on there I check them to make sure they're wearable another time. No sense sending dress pants to the cleaner everytime you wear them. Well these black pants looked just like his old ones and maybe I was in a hurry, I really dont remember but they passed inspection so I rehung them up.

This morning he pulls the black pair of pants off the hanger, and I guess I miscalculated. They were new, ones he'd worn the next morning the day after he'd bought his pants. I guess I got them mixed up with his old black pants, so I didnt realize they were new. They still had the sticky strip on them from the label and a crease from being folded. Color me retarded for not realizing this. So already he's getting angry at me, accusing me of not caring and huffs off downstairs.

Then he really starts fussing. Last night when I came to bed, it was really hot upstairs. It felt good to me, my fingers and toes were like ice from being downstairs. I'm laying in bed, drifting off and he asks me to go downstairs and turn down the thermostat. I say, "baby its fine up here." And he says, "no I'm really hot." Fine. I get up and go downstairs, but I was just so tired I didnt feel like fucking with the controls trying to figure out what was going to cool him down the fastest so I just clicked it off. Needless to say when he walked down the stairs this morning it was freezing, which he didnt hesitate to tell me.

Then he comes back upstairs and starts going nova on me. About how I just dont care and this and that. I really could go on but I dont think I want to share that much.

Two weeks ago the same thing happened. I forget what, maybe he ran out of sweaters. Sweaters, not button down shirts. So he's upset, then he goes downstairs to find his shoes. Well, he hasnt worn those in a few days so they've been put up in the closet in the shoe rack and I've put the vacuum cleaner away too so they're covering up his shoes. If he had just MOVED the vacuum cleaner and looked behind it he would have found his shoes. So I had to listen to him say some pretty not nice things about me while he was looking for them, and finally I told them where they were and he was like saying, "why does everything have to be so hard." Dude, they were behind the VACUUM CLEANER on the SHOE RACK. THAT'S NOT HARD. Convenient? No. Hard? Definitely not.

I dont know what to do anymore. I swear to God I have cleaned this house til it was spotless but he always finds the TWO things I didnt get/do right and bitches like I'm this horrible person who doesnt care. Its like I cant make a mistake, ever. I really dont know how much longer I can live this way, of never doing things right. I'm so tired of trying and getting it kicked back in my face.