My Fucking Mother still won't talk to me.  In fact, she's gone to the extent of exercising for longer than usual while My Father has me eat first.  She either eats after me or, like today, she doesn't eat at all.

Fuck her, she's crazy.

And once again, My Fucking Father, of all people, is trying to play peacemaker.  For fuck's sake, I don't know why she blew up on me on Wednesday, and she's still holding my "for 33 years" comment against me.  I have never seen her hold a grudge this long ever ... unless just generally hating me all my life counts.

I now feel I have to make this up to My Father.  He asked me to clean my room.  I feel more of a pull to do it now more than ever.

I also can't forget that the roles of good cop and bad cop are usually the other way around.  I'm now convinced that they're both crazy, but they take turns.

God I hope they don't keep me out of the house when I leave the country later this week.