First Meltdown

It was a matter of when, not if, I would have a big fat freak out in my new home.

Since our first weekend together, we vowed we would always have Lazy Sunday (unless of course, there is some family function we have to attend). Lazy Sunday consists of exactly that, laziness. We get up late, stay in our PJs for as long as humanly possible, and relax until we are so stress free we could float away on a cloud.

So this morning was no different than any of the other 25 Sundays we've had together. It was wonderful and relaxing and lovely and warm and fuzzy.

We finally decided to get up and have breakfast around noon. Again, nothing unusual. We were debating between pancakes and omelettes. I opened the fridge to see what was there. I rooted around and found a tupperware container with three pizza slices from a Rock Band party we had last weekend with my brother and sister-in-law.

Seeing as there were only three eggs left, I decided to let him have the eggs and I would have the pizza. Just so you all know, I love pizza in one of three ways:

1. Piping hot, fresh from the delivery place.
2. The next morning after I've left it on the counter over night.
3. Reheated in the oven a few days later.

I do NOT like pizza that has been microwaved. It gets too smooshy for my liking and kinda makes me wanna barf in my own mouth.

So I asked The Comedian if he could help me turn on the oven to reheat my pizza. I still do not know how to work his oven.

"Why are you going to heat up the oven for three little pieces of pizza?"

"Because I want to heat them up."

"Just use the microwave."

"I don't like it in the microwave."

"You can't use that much electricity for three tiny pieces of pizza."

And that was it. I ran into the bedroom, threw myself on the bed and started to bawl my eyes out.

The Comedian followed a few minutes later when he realized what was happening. He was very shocked to see me in such a state.

"Why are you crying?"

The floodgates open and I started to wail about not being allowed to use the oven when I want, not feeling like I'm in my own space, not knowing how to work any of the appliances, not being allowed to keep the heat turned up, not knowing the satellite channels, not having my TiVo hooked up to record my shows, not knowing how to drive from the house to my brother's place in Welland, not having a vet for my cat, not having a nail salon to get a pedicure and not having a life now that I'm having to chase down a bus to get home at night.

Yeah. I guess I've been feeling all these things, but it wasn't until the pizza that I realized how I was feeling.

The Comedian did his best to calm me down. I cried and sobbed and moaned until the tears dried up.

We talked and he understood why I was upset. But he still didn't understand why I had to heat up my pizza in a big oven. He suggested making cupcakes along side reheating the pizza. I think that was a good solution for heating up the oven.

He also suggested we start hanging up some of my framed pictures around the house and that we would dig out the manual for the TiVo and hook it up so I don't miss any more of my soaps.

He's such a good man. I am grateful that I can feel what I'm feeling, and he's right there to help me through it.