One of the new conditions my goddamn parents have set for me after they were, um, dissatisfied with my performance after they set me up by coming home last week without telling me is that, every day, I have to "report" to them on that day's mail.
That's a pain-in-the-ass in and of itself, but it gets to be really tricky when you're doing something that prevents you from coming home at a time they think you should be home. Like tonight, for example. I intend to go to the NCAA women's volleyball regional at the Sports Pavilion. The first game starts at 4; I may be able to bug out of there (depending on when I need to speak to one of The Two Temps that's leaving today) at 3:30. I have every intention not to be late.
That means, of course, that I won't be going home. And I don't think I will, at least until midnight, hopefully until 1. But my parents aren't going to like that. So what do I do? Lie, of course. Inbetween games I'm going to call them up and tell them about the mail that came in today. I have no idea what it is, so I'm going to make stuff up. And none of it can be real estate-related, so it's just going to be junk mail, stuff for which we won't have a long conversation about. And then I'll tell them I have to go to work in the evening, to cover a volleyball game.
Complications my arise if My Fucking Mother wants to talk about the property manager, or, worse, if she has arranged a meeting with the property manager to see me tonight. He is supposed to swing by with checks he is supposed to get today. If he finds out that I'm not home when My Fucking Mother says I am home, I will get caught. Well, that's a goddamn risk I am willing to take to wrestle free of my folks' control.
Wish me luck.
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