Unappreciated

I’ve been very patient, but she won't talk to me. This has been going on for years, and I should have accepted it by now. But it still hurts. It isn’t as though I’ve stopped talking to her. Maybe she hears the impatience in my voice, though, and decides to just twist the knife by remaining silent.

Yesterday, the sun shone through the bedroom window. “Hey! It’s a beautiful day! How about if I make you breakfast?”

No response. She lay there until breakfast was ready, then emerged from the bedroom—rumpled, making no effort at all to be more presentable. She ate without comment.

“Did you like it?”

Silence.

As I washed the dishes, she lay down on the couch.

“Yeah, you have had a hard morning.” Of course, she heard my mocking tone. But even a witty retort like, “After a breakfast like that, how do you expect me remain standing?” would have at least been something. 

I am aware of my tendency toward sarcasm, though. After she’d gotten her hair cut and her nails done, I said, “You look fantastic!” I was absolutely sincere. What do I get in return? Nothing but a bored sign.

Meanwhile, I pay for everything, and it’s never acknowledged. You know why? Because it’s all about her! She is pampered and thinks she has to do nothing in return, and I am sick of it!

One of these days, I’m going to get a new dog, and we’ll see who feels ignored then.