On Sunday, 18 September 2005, Cesar got up to go to the bathroom after only 4hrs sleep. When I heard him coming back, I got up to go, too. I came back to discover him sprawled across the bed so I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to move over. At this, he flew off the handle and out of the bed ranting at me about how I screamed at him and how he had been sleeping on that side of the bed all night. I could hardly believe my ears and, realizing how little sleep we'd gotten after a night out dancing, I chose not to engage. Instead, I went out to get the newspaper and climbed back into bed. He came back to bed so I moved to the couch. He came out to the living room and began lecturing me about how thoughtless and inconsiderate I was for drinking around him knowing he's a recovering alcoholic. ????? I moved back into the bedroom.

He left.

I lay contentedly on the couch doing my Sunday crossword, watching football in my bathrobe drinking coffee. Absolute bliss!!!!!

He came back.

Here we go again. My turn. I can't live with this, I tell him. I mean, if you wake up like this on occasion and I'm only with you half the days in a week, how often do you really wake up like this? I can't live with you knowing you do this. I can't think about moving in with you. I have a child to think about.

He thinks I'm breaking up with him. No, just telling you how I feel. This isn't okay with me. I can't handle it. It's stressful. So, he breaks up with me.

Fine, whatever, this is only like the umpteenth time, I'm used to it.

He leaves.