The Battle Of New Orleans

My husband and I had our first fight ever during our child-free getaway and thus ended our romantic idyll in the Big Easy on the second of a four day visit.

It was several years overdue. I suppose during the course of our marriage that maybe we have spent a total sum of eighteen months together, though not all contiguously. When you have so little time together you tend to push the irritations under the rug since you're always trying to maximize your positive experience together.

Whatever. My limit was reached and I exploded. Our last two days were spent alternating between icy silence and angry words hissed out between tightly gritted teeth. I left the room for breakfast and dinner. He got dressed up for dinner the last night and took himself out.

My BF and saner head in the situation talked me out of driving off and leaving his ass there to figure out a way home. She likes my husband and was worried I would feel bad about leaving him when my rage began to cool off.

I love her, but she overestimates my human kindness factor. So I locked him out of the room and he had to sleep in the car because sometimes my maturity factor goes awry. I must remember to write an apology note to our hotel as they seemed quietly appalled by all of our vacation sordidness.

Then I roused him to leave the next morning around 4 am. At 90 miles an hour or more, we would be home well before noon.

Somewhere around Mobile he asked me why I was in a hurry to end our vacation. He was serious, not just being sarcastic. I handled the question with quiet dignity as I had also promised my BF that I would not commit any acts of homicide before getting home to Georgia. We know people here, she's got pull in the legal system.

We did get it sorted out by the time we got home. That many hours in a car together forces you to deal with a situation whether you want to or not. I was sad this morning about it as this is the last time I'll see him for several months or even a year. Twice a year we try to cram a year of marriage into a two week span. By the time we went on vacation we were both tired as hell from the constant stream of doctor and dentist appointments he needs when he comes home, plus all the necessary errands that have to be done while he's here; taxes, bank business, various phone calls, networking, and hopefully one day an actual job interview for something in a five hundred mile radius.

Damn this recession and employment situation.

Maybe our next home visit we can try the romantic getaway again. Or not. Perhaps that was just too much pressure to put on us in such a short time, especially after so much time apart. Maybe we'll just sit on our back porch holding hands and listening to Garrison Keillor and "Tales of Lake Wobegon" and quietly enjoy one another's companionship.