Mean makes it easier...

There's not much time left before we go, and since Derek is being true to his nature and back to having his daily tirades, as horrible as it is, it almost makes it easier to plan all the things I've planned in secret. Each time he calls me an idiot, a moron, a horrible person, and all the rest of it, I think, "Good, go ahead, you're just confirming and reaffirming for me that I'm so glad we're leaving!" Yesterday I met him for breakfast as usual, following a phone episode where he screamed at me for scheduling the housekeeper on a day that he claims I did not clear with him. He was irate, telling me I'm selfish, unorganized, don't have my shit together, I'm the most idiotic person he's ever met, and on and on. I got to hear this as I was driving to meet him for breakfast. Once I got there, I sat down and he was complaining about the service today; how he had no water yet, no toast, and how the staff moved like "dumb monkeys who should go back to the trees." "Should I get some toast?" I offered, since it's at a self-serve bar. "How dumb are you?" he snapped, "The toaster isn't working, you idiot. Do you see toast here? You think I'm so dumb I couldn't get it myself?" This is the kind of baiting that still stings horribly, but with only days to go I think, "Oh yeah, you're a real jerk, alright, I'm SO glad we're leaving!" Still, it's hard to remain silent and this time I couldn't. "No," I countered, "I was trying to be HELPFUL." I said with emphasis. "Someone is trying to be NICE to you. But I know you don't care about that." "No, I don't care. You know what -- get out of my sight. Sit somewhere else. You make sick." he said, waving his hand dismissively at me. I SO wanted to get up and leave, but I knew that would spark a firestorm of anger that could cause me problems during this last critical week, so I stayed put, just taking it. Somehow we got through breakfast and he moved on to other topics, some normal and others peppered with comments like, "What are you saying, who thinks like that, please, just stop talking." That night, when I was making dinner, Derek descended from his lair upstairs to come down and scream at the kids for a bit. They were both eating, and before he was even off of the stairs, he screamed across the entire room for Dillon to sit up straight. Then he screamed at Ella to stop making such a mess and that she's a pig (she's only 1 1/2). Then he screamed at me that I was just standing there doing nothing about all of these horrible infractions, that I'm clueless, useless, etc. etc. Whenever Dillon would turn his head around to look at him as he screamed, Derek would scream for him to turn around and mind his own business. He worked himself into such a frenzy of anger toward me over all of this that he said, "You can just stop what you're dong, I'm not eating any of it! Thank you, Stacey, I've completely lost my appetite!" I continued cooking his dinner anyway, and served it to him on the couch as usual. But he sat there like a two-year-old, refusing to even look at it. "I told you I'm not eating it. You can take it away." This, coming from someone who screams at me about being wasteful. Except for the screaming at me and the kids, I actually found his display ridiculous and exactly like a naughty child. He's so immature, it just mystified me. I left the plate of food on the coffee table all night, until he fell asleep and finally I decided that it was no good to actually waste it, so I put it away. At that point he awoke, still angry and not speaking to me, and I sat in silence on the couch (on my designated couch, that is), dutifully watching as he flipped the channels around at will. Finally he retreated back upstairs without a word to me. Later, when I went to bed, he was back to "normal," trying to tickle me and poke me, much like a schoolboy who has a crush but doesn't know how to tell the girl, so he pulls her hair and teases her. That's what Derek does. He tries to make up by being playful. Yuk. Earlier, as I was cleaning up the remains of his dinner, I tried to imagine the night very soon when it would be the very last dinner that I made him. I wonder then if he'll miss it. In the midst of his tirade last night, he had declared again, that I'm "no good" for him, that he doesn't need me, and that things had to change. Wish granted. Until next time, dear friend...