This is only because he's bitter he had to go to work at The Store today. He doesn't want to work these days -- I doubt he ever wanted to -- so if he has to wake up, I have to wake up. What a fucking baby.
I may have had an inkling of his juvenile behavior last night. When I came home he went upstairs to get something to eat, and for some reason he wouldn't step around me as I was taking off my shoes. The guy's a brat, I'm telling you.
I lost it when he woke me up for that "reason," so instead of doing what he said -- I'm 36, asshole! -- I went straight back into my bedroom. But then I remembered: I can't afford to move out.
This has nothing to do with the contract. Even though My Fucking Father might think it does, as far as he knows, I'm working. I have to wake up 9:30 every morning if I don't have a job. But I do. Actually I don't, but he doesn't fucking know that.
But he thinks he does, and so he thinks he can bully me into doing what he wants me to do. And that pisses me off ... but then I remember: I can't afford to move out.
I'm kind of in a bind. I wanted to go back to sleep, but my (rightful) act of anger and defiance to his bullshit move could cause a fight and make My Fucking Father say he wants me out of the house. I'm know I'm right, but there's nothing I can fucking do. It makes me mad to no end, but those are the facts.
So I try to smooth things over by calling My Fucking Father an hour after waking me up. A few days ago he asked me to stay home because the contractors would finishing up the living room and upstairs bedroom. I called him to tell him that they didn't come over yet. There is no real reason why I had to call, but I needed to gauge his attitude after what he pulled on me this morning. He was calm, even friendly. I'll take that, but he could certainly turn around and be an asshole when I come home in an hour or so.
In the meantime I had to, in his words, do something. I mowed the lawn, which is something I planned on doing, even though the grass is dying and too short to mow anyway. I also washed the plants' leaves, for lack of a better phrase.
However, I decided to just fucking leave the pail of water I used to wash the leaves in front of the pots. It's my passive-aggressive way of letting My Fucking Father know I did work, just not the work of cleaning up after myself. I'll dump the water when I get home ... unless My Fucking Father can't take it and does it himself.
Oh, and when I showered after I mowed the lawn I had to use my parents' shower because the upstairs shower still isn't completely finished. Also, they use a t-shirt for a bath mat. Fuck that, that is philistine. I've had to shower down there for the past week, so I remembered to take my own towel. But this time I forgot, and because I'm still pissed at My Fucking Father, I decided to use their bath towel as a bath mat instead. Just put it down on the floor next to the shower, and when I was done I hung it back up. Fuck it, they don't have to know.
All the time I have to make sure I don't blow up this whole situation just because My Fucking Father wants to be bitter and dare me. So for the past few hours I've been repeating this koan to myself: "I can't afford to move out ... I can't afford to move out ... I can't afford to move out. ..." Pray for me.
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