It gets better .... so I decide that I need some time alone to breathe, so I go to my bedroom and I locked the door. C freaks out because "he's worried" and actually takes the doorknob off the door to "make sure I'm ok". And then proceeds to follow me down the street in the car after I walked out because he took the keys to both vehicles so that I can't go anywhere. I think that's considered abuse but I could be wrong. BUT I'M NOT. Best part? My mom thinks this is ok because he was just worried about me. I have to laugh because I was worried about my dad? Jeebus fucking christ.
It never ceases to amaze me that you can spend hours and hours cleaning, re-organizing, de-cluttering, only to come back and find that any open space has been appropriated for random stuff landing spots in a matter of hours and of course no one takes responsibility for any of it. "How did that stereo system complete with sub woofer get to be on the breakfast bar that I cleaned off not even half an hour ago???" "No idea." "Why is there a gallon jug of lemonade on my newly re-organized desk??" *shrug* "I didn't put it there." "Who put these crystal votive candle holders on this jewelry case that I just windexed??!" "They're not mine" AAARRRGGGHHH.
Comments
Post a Comment