God, they're obnoxious tonight. Dad really cannot balance his checkbook anymore. I don't know what the @#$%^&* he does wrong, but they fight like hell over it. They've been doing it for HOURS now. Hours of screaming and something between laughing and crying. He's cracking up. I hid in my room (thank God it's on the far end of my house) and blasted my stereo for most of that time. Then Mom flipped out at 8:30 and started yelling at me. Ah, the pecking order. When one yells at the other, the other pecks on me. And I am absolutely NOT allowed to peck back. I asked her why she doesn't do the checkbook herself- I mean, it's been 3 1/2 hours so far of screaming- and she said it's a man-must-be-in-power thing. I hate guys. Montana men really suck.
She's all mad that dinner isn't done, blames it all on me for not having the table set (hint: they were sitting at it), yells at me for avoiding the screaming and says that I HAVE to listen to it, because we're a family, and if I don't like it they'll take me back to the dorm (hello, it's closed). If she wants help with dinner, can she ASK? Noooooooo. NEVER. I have to fucking read her mind. She won't budge. Then when I help her- she told me to find the taco shells and I couldn't find 'em- she screams that they were right in front of my nose and she could find 'em with her eyes closed. For the record, they were buried in the cupboard, to the point where it would have been easier to find them in a basement lavatory with a sign saying "Beware of the Leopard" on it.
I hate family. I hate the holidays.
I avoided Dad all afternoon- he napped, I snuck to the computer and did my Hawaii posts (ah, ironic how I said there I was through with guys. Again. Famous last words). At four Mom came home and I was watching Oprah when he comes in and screams at me to help Mom do the decorations. She wasn't DOING the decorations, she was almost done making the bed. I try to say that, he screams at me to help her make the bed then. He will NOT see reason.
Mom wasn't fun to deal with either. While going through decorations she finds some grad party invitations she bought (she wanted to throw a high school graduation party, I didn't want to at all) then goes, "Do we get to throw a college graduation party for you?" "No." Then she loses it, gripes that she wasted money. "Hey, I never ASKED you to buy those." "I thought you'd want it."
I hate party throwing. The screaming and the stress and the cleaning is NOT worth it. I don't have fun at our parties because of all that crap. I dread the New Year's Day party we're throwing.
Why would I want to be home? How can they imagine that I want to listen to them howl? They wonder why I never fight for anything- it's 'cause I can't take screaming anymore. But she's MAKING me... I'm sitting out here writing this just so she can SEE that I'm not "avoiding the family" and "running away." However, I just want to bash heads together and SCREAM. Loudly.
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