Friday at work I got a text from Mother: "When you get home, call me." I would be out all night to see my alma mater play a college football game, so when I told her that she told me to just call her the next morning.
As I fell asleep I thought about what she wanted to talk about, so just in case, I looked up Father's e-mail. And there I saw two confirmation messages from Spirit Airlines, the first of which was an itinerary for them to come home this Friday.
Fuck me and fuck my life.
I thought that was bad, but then I scared myself as I was falling asleep. Why does she want to speak with me? And why are they coming home so soon after leaving? I was really afraid it was a health issue, that one of them is so sick that they want to come home and get themselves checked out. And then I thought that my aunt (My Father's sister) is sick, or worse. My parents are a secretive bunch. They also are frighteningly blase when it comes to death. So I convinced myself that something really bad happened; they just told me to call in the morning because they don't think it's anything that bad to talk about immediately.
I was so scared about what the call in the morning would bring that I had trouble sleeping, although having a cup of coffee at Glam Doll may not have helped me fall asleep (even though I drink coffee late at night there all the time and I'm fine going to bed). But I eventually did, and I woke up well into the morning, and so call Mother.
And the reason they're coming home is ... the tenants in one of their remaining real estate properties here are leaving, and they need to return to prepare the house for sale. Oh, that's it. Well, that's enough for them to come home and stay for 2 1/2 weeks, until friggin' Christmas Eve.
Fuck me and fuck my life.
So now I've had to arrange some stripper to come and clean the house -- which makes me reflect on how little money I have in my account right now, which is another problem I should blog/vent about. This also forces me to pick up my clothes, wash the dishes, do as much laundry as I can and, most importantly, bag and store all the mail and magazines I want to keep. Oh yeah, and I have to eat all the leftovers from the freezer they left me, even though I haven't touched any of the stuff there because, hey, I thought I had time to eat all that.
I pretty much cannot think about anything else because I'm too busy not only preparing for my folks to come home but also to worry about my parents coming home, which consumes my time and my brain.
Oh, and this reintroduces the possibility that My Asshole Brother will swing by the house. Since my folks will be here until Christmas Eve, having them come over is now pretty much guaranteed. I know I can't continue avoiding that son-of-a-bitch, but I still feel as though I'll kill him as soon as I see him. So I am still thinking about lying my ass off to my parents about being busy on weekends, like I have to work or some shit like that. It's totally shameless and borderline pathetic, but it's better than trying to kill him, that's for sure.
And on top of this, we've got the first snowstorm of the season. It isn't bad, only a couple inches, but the wind is whipping and the temperature is dropping, so anything that is wet will freeze by morning. I'll have to take the very slow way to the south metro this morning. And I have to get out early because I'll be driving for 90 minutes on my way to work.
Like I said, fuck me and fuck my life.
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