I thought I survived.

I'll just state my beef right up front:
Ron spent a night in a motel by himself last night. You'd think he'd come home rested, right? Well apparently he did not get much sleep, since the TV kept him up late. Umm, he chose to stay up and watch television. And then he has the nerve to come home tired and cranky. I went out for a walk on snowshoes to get some air, and when I got back, he was napping. Not tending to the children, not picking up the house, not making supper like I had hoped. And he can't understand why I am crabby about it. I was not crabby until I came in to see him napping. The snowshoeing was great.
I was enamored with all the shadows on the snow.

Well, I felt like I had survived the blizzard so well. I didn't even have any meltdowns while I was stuck in my shoebox (that's what I call this place- it's shaped like one, and it feels like one sometimes) isolated for two days straight. Without any other adults to talk too, except on the phone. I tell you, this is a feat for me. I don't know why, but this type of thing has been challenging for me ever since having kids. And it is not because I am nervous to stay alone. It's just I have a low tolerance for kids bawling and fighting and whining.
So I thought I did so well, and I made it by removing all expectations of myself today. I just let myself do what it took to survive. Apparently Ron doesn't really appreciate this. He's busy being defensive about the TV thing by saying he's wishing the house was clean, etc...
Really. So here I am, airing my marital frustration here. Hope you don't mind. Maybe you can relate...