BBQs with Asshats

I am here in the midst of preparing for BBQing with my husband and he is ranting & raving and having a bad day. Reminding me how I have too much stuff & how the reality is that I'm never gonna finish any of it. Of how I just need to get rid of it because what I want to do with the stuff just doesn't make any sense anyways.

Ya know what, get outta the kitchen. Just go outside. Go away. Now.

He is on a nicotine withdrawal and feeling pissy so naturally he wants to blow steam off on me. Off he goes outside to tend to the fire pit. I have busied myself in the house doing all that I can think of to *not* go outside. I wait, and cringe, knowing he will be in shortly with more groaning & moaning about something totally different.

I'm having flashbacks of growing up with my dad-Mr BBQ fight himself-who would do the same thing to my mom & us kids. 

"What are you thinking? Why can't you ___? Why didn't you ___? How long does it take to do ___ or ___? Didn't I tell you to ___? I don't even wanna hear it, just shut up. Never mind. I don't know why I always have to do this by myself. Why is no one ever out here with me?"

That is what I flash to & what makes me cry now. (remember to breathe) It's sad the things that we remember in the midst of things that are supposed to be so pleasantly memorable.

Just go away. All the thoughts that are not worth remembering. There is no lesson to be learned here. This is not something that I will grow from or that will help make me stronger.
Go away.
Now.