In and of itself the surprise Mother told me last (Monday) night should not get me all hot. But given the bullshit I've had to put up with with both of my parental units, I feel like I'm justified in being very upset. Hell, that's why I set up this blog -- to vent about shit, especially about the shit flung by my parents.
I was at the dealership last (Monday) night, getting an oil change and tire rotate, and also getting a new door handle as part of a recall and, if they did what I asked them to, checking underneath the hood for any lasting effects of putting the new car in storage for 4 1/2 months over the winter. They got done early -- a full 90 minutes ahead of my schedule, in fact. I, however, was not, because of a fateful combination of too many things I need to do and a fucking old-ass laptop that was acting up for much of the evening and got bogged down to the point where I got nothing done.
A frustrating lap around the area, where all the fucking local gas stations are pre-pay except for the one where I mocked and ridiculed the shitty employees for being slow and unprofessional, followed my evening at the dealership. So I wasn't really in the best of moods when I finally got home. But at least I could finally take off my Doc Martens (letting my toes relax) and take a dump in peace.
Unfortunately, Mother, running up to me a second time since coming home, approached the bathroom, virtually in a panic, after talking probably to My Fucking Father (I heard her phone ring from downstairs), and dropped another bomb on me. Mother and I discussed going to one of my parents' real estate properties and doing some handywork -- specifically, if I recall correctly, nailing a gutter. She wanted to do it Sunday, when I had time. According to Mother, My Fucking Father nixed that idea because he thought their friend could do it instead. Guess that fell through because we now have to fix this gutter, or something. Problem is, we need to do it tomorrow because it appears as though a new tenant comes in on Wednesday.
Well, fuck. I had plans on going to the library to print out KenPom in order to do research on the bracket, and maybe I could type out this letter for Mother to give to her doctor next week, but that's now out the window. However, Mother thinks that's too late -- she thinks it'll get too dark, even though sunset now comes past 6. The fuck. She wants us to go before I head off to work in the morning. So, I am supposed to wake up at 6 -- in other words, very soon after I finish this blog post off -- and we will do this in the wee hours of the morning.
This is going to be nothing short of a goddamn disaster, I just know it. First of all, I couldn't hit a nail on the head if the nail's head was the size of Donald Trump's face. Second of all, I asked Mother, several times, if the only thing we needed to do was nail this gutter back in place. She said yes ... which means that she'll find another fucking thing we need to work on in the house. It's inevitable that either this goes wrong or she'll find something else we'll need to do ... you know, "As long as we're here, and if you have time, son." Finally, it's supposed to rain in the morning, so I'll be drenched if everything somehow manages to go smoothly, and I'll be both drenched and pissed if it doesn't.
But that's not the big thing that angers me about this blindside. Once again in my life I'm put into ... "this position." I see Mother running up to me because she needs my help. (Frantic panicking for shit that she believes needs to be done immediately? I get that from her. Mark it down.) My guess is she's running like a chicken with its head cut off to do this because My Fucking Father dropped a bomb on her and surprised her by saying in that phone call that 1) their friend can't do whatever this fix is and 2) oh yeah, a new tenant's moving in this week. That's typical of both of them, though what is more insidious is the way My Fucking Father manipulates Mother into doing things for him.
Finally, this bullshit, where I have push all the important things I need to do off the table because the family needs something do, is rigmarole over which I have had to constantly fight with them. This fighting is over the expectations that they continually nag me to do which I keep telling them I can't do because of surprises like this. My Fucking Father randomly telling me to go back to school? How can I when I have to wake up as early as a goddamn farmer in order to do manual labor for their properties? How can I find a steady job when I'm constantly trying to help My Fucking Mother understand what this letter means, or figure out why is her laptop acting the way it's acting, or find some long-lost letter for her, or type out a motherfucking text for her (with her adding something dumb because she wants to)? All of this takes precious hours out of my day. And I'm supposed to take a class on top of putting out all these goddamn fires for them?! Fuck you!!!
I have to wake up in about 4 1/2 hours. I'm tired, yet I can't sleep because I'm overwhelmed over what was dropped onto my lap 4 1/2 hours ago. And I have to go to work after this!!!
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