So Mother prolonged this stupid entanglement with the credit card company and this company that didn't send her this thing she wanted for three months. She kept badgering me and badgering me to do something about this, so I eventually just sent a complaint letter to the credit card company asking them to credit the price of the purchase. Well, My Fucking Mother yesterday was able to cajole my sister into talking with the company to just give the item, which Mother just received, for half off. So now I have to talk to the credit card company telling them, "Hey, that letter I sent certified mail? Never mind!" But I'll wait to do that until this company actually credits My Mother back the money they promised my sister they would.
Mother has been a pain in the ass lately. She's been aggravating me on a bunch of things, but in this instance, where I do something for her, only for me to need to unwind that because she bothered someone else to help her with her complaint, is another level of annoyance that I would rather not spend brainpower or time on.
Speaking of my sister ... she hepped me up to a paper she's writing, and she wants my help in editing it. She sent it last night. It's 23 pages long (well, 21 without footnotes), and it's on her level of expertise, which makes any suggestions I would have when it comes to sentence structure and wordiness very difficult to convey. I am reduced to spelling and grammar checks -- important stuff, but I think I could help her more with concepts of organization and word economy, and I don't think I can do that if I don't know the subject matter.
Actually, overall, even though I'm flattered she asked for my help, and will do my best to help her because that is what families are supposed to do, I'm scared that my edits will in fact get her paper a worse grade. Instead of helping her, I am afraid I will in fact hurt her. I'll pray that's not the case. Actually, I'll pray that I can edit her paper in time. Sis says the weekend is fine, but ideally she would like it back by Thursday. That might be difficult, especially since this "college thing" has a meeting I think I should drop in on, if not fully participate in, this evening.
Oh, and ******a. I like the boundaries that we have when it comes to sexual activity. She allows none of it, but she is trying to hustle a business by giving massages, and she has given into my request to get massaged completely naked -- mostly because my left hip is killing me, and I think a knot is centered in my left ass. ******a wants me to make massages with her a regular thing. I'm OK with that, but we need to discuss frequency and price.
But beyond that, I have to say that she's a bit ... neurotic. We were texting back-and-forth about setting up an arrangement last night. ******a is very unique when it comes to texting -- namely, I don't know of anyone, stripper or non-stripper, who texts so much. How can anyone's thumbs pound the surface of a phone that much I don't understand, and the strain in my eyes in trying to look at small, frequently misspelled text in a small screen dissuades me from texting so long.
Anyway, after we left the subject about me being a regular massage client, she told me that she just had to break into her house because she locked herself out. And then she texted other stuff about going to the neighbor's and going to the cops and batteries and how she locked herself out ... she goes on and on about some things, and my eyes just glaze over. She's nice, and she's hot, but I cannot engage with her on stuff like that, especially when she is in the middle of a stream-of-consciousness text, so I replied with, "Oh, OK. Good night, and I'm glad you're safe!" (She did end her text by saying goodnight.)
I don't think she needed anything from me. I ... well, she's a weird bird, I guess I wanted to talk about. Hot weird bird, but a weird bird nonetheless.
No comments:
Post a Comment