El Senor thinks that I'm a fat, lazy slob. He objects to how much I eat and he objects to how much time I spend watching the television and he also objects to the amount of time I spend on the computer. And what bugs me the most is that he chooses to communicate this to me passive-aggressively.
When we moved into this place, he told me that it was my responsibility to provide TiVo for the condo. Well, I found out that TiVo wasn't an option because we don't have a telephone line in the condo, but I did some research and found out all about Comcast's DVR. So I made the phone calls and yesterday the Comcast technician came over and set us all up. Digital cable. DVR. Comcast on Demand. It's all pretty sweet. So last night, I sat on our brand new couch (so long, futon!) and programmed in all the programs that I want the DVR to record repeatedly. Most notably was Cast Away, which I've been wanting to watch again for years, but always seem to forget when picking out a movie. It was airing tonight with limited commercial breaks (which means fewer times that I would have to fast forward the commercials) and I had everything set up to record it.
So what happens? Well, I drive home from work today, all excited about watching Cast Away and I walk into the house and notice a couple of odd things. First of all, there's no more TV and DVR in the living room. El Senor disconnected them and put them on the floor of my bedroom. You may not know this, but a disconnected DVR will not actually record Cast Away. It won't record Without a Trace. And I doubt that it will keep the recordings of Design on a Dime and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and The Colbert Report that were already recorded on it.
My computer was not in the living room where I usually leave it. It was in El Senor's room. It's not like he was using it, either. He was just keeping it away from me. He has his own freaking computer.
If you think that's bad, though, just wait to find out what comes next. He put the couch (which he knows is too heavy for me to move by myself) in the kitchen. It takes up all the room of the kitchen, so I have no access to the refrigerator, cupboards, dishes, pantry---anything. He's cut off all access to food.
He also put the dining room table and chairs in my bedroom, like just to rub salt in an open wound: "Ha. You can't eat food, and you can't even sit at the dining room table and think about eating food."
My room is now crowded with furniture and a useless television and DVR. Of course I stole my computer back when he wasn't paying attention, but seriously! I am starting to think that maybe living with him wasn't such a good idea.
Oh, so you want his side of the story?? Like that's important? Well, according to him, it's necessary to move everything out of the living room and dining room in order to install his hardwood floor this weekend. Of all the lame, transparent excuses. I suggest that a cheaper solution next time will just be to confront me about my television, computer, and eating habits instead of inventing reasons to block my access to my vices.
This is a picture of the floor that he's "installing."
This is a picture of my bedroom that he's shoved things into.
This is a picture of the impossible kitchen. What I wouldn't give for a nice warm cup of hot chocolate right now... Did I mention that to further deprive me of comfort, he left the doors open all day long today? Hmph.