"When a lady's erotic life is vexed God knows what is coming next." -Ogden Nash(Again, no link pages for the images are up. Sorry) Well, I'm still not as cranky as I normally would be at this point in time around my parents. But the usual (and some not-so-usual) crap is being pulled again. Oh joy.
Dad wasn't around much- he's so pissed at Mom he was either outside or at Auntie Dolores's all day. And my mom was glad about it. She was griping about "every time I turn around he's mauling me!" Sadly, I think she was referring to him hugging her (she never was too pleased with signs of affection from him). Geez.
Unpacked all day, talk about a mess. My mom wanted me to go through my old clothes and get rid of some. Now, this is always a trial in our family, because she goes through the pile and then goes to me with "Ohhh, this is so cuuuuute" or "Your grandmother gave you this" or "Do you really want to throw this out?" Naturally, nothing gets trashed, and my closet remains stuffed. Well, today I said I'd do it, if she'd just promise to NOT do that to me. Hah! She did it anyway, guilt-tripping. They never change.
Demma was going to come over to drop off some stuff, and RIGHT BEFORE SHE'S GOING TO ARRIVE (again, great timing on the part of the Rutherford clan) Mom decides to pick a fight with me. She asks me about some shirt and out of the blue comes out with "If you don't want to be around us, why don't you get a job?" This resulted in my screaming, "I don't want to be around you because you fight all the time and it drives me crazy! And from what others have told me, you don't fight when I'm not home, so my working wouldn't help that. And what kinda job could I get for six weeks anyway?" "I don't know, you figure it out." 
This conversation eventually resulted in her crying and still making me feel guilty. I can't believe she still wonders why I don't want to be home, when I now have somewhere else to live (most of the year) and don't have to listen to it. She wanted to know why I come home on weekends so much if I don't like them, and I said, "Well, when I'm only there for a short time, you don't fight as much." Basically, this is how the day went.
Told Demma about yesterday, and surprisingly I said the words, "Dang, I already kinda miss that guy." Huh? I barely know him. Another obsession blooming? Oh, great.
I just realized that I've now put myself in that lovely position of "waiting for the guy to call." Dammit! I hate waiting for that kinda thing! There's something that'll drive ya nuts. At least someone else can answer the phone every time when I'm here, so I don't always play false alarm. But in reality, both situations suck, even when there's not a long-distance phone bill to worry about: Calling is nervewracking, and so's waiting for people to call. What's perverse is that when I'm waiting for a call, I always have this urge to leave the house or go on the Internet or something- a perverse need to not be sitting and waiting for a ring, even though that defeats the purpose, know what I mean?
The e-mail: gr3ruth@pacbell.net.
The bitching and whining: right here, right now.
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