I put them on the pool table in the basement, which now serves as a pseudo-shelf. Maybe I should have thought about putting them somewhere else, but since Father puts everything on, in, or under that, I kind of thought they would be there the next time I see Grandmother's friend. I did not take into account my parents' propensity to clean, especially since they came home to a leaky water heater and there was a lot of stuff to move around and put back.
Just went down to the pool table. The tests, which I kept in their gray packaging, aren't there. Seemingly every other piece of shit is there, but I didn't know where to start. So I called Father just now. At first he said, "I don't know." And then he said, "Oh, I probably threw them away." And then he asked me if I checked the new water heater. I don't know what I'm so goddamn angry with My Fucking Father about more: His seeming biddiness about not remembering where he put those tests (and I'm not saying he's got dementia, thank Buddha, but he may be lying about not remembering and he just doesn't want to tell me the truth); him actually throwing away things that do not look like trash and did not belong to him and thus was not his to throw away; or him deflecting to something that matters to him and away from something that matters to me (which I actively called him on the phone for). It's probably all three.
Shit. I believe I have just ordered new tests (I didn't think you can do that anymore, but if I can, thank God I live in a blue state). But honestly, when faced with this bad choice because my safety net was unfairly taken from me, I am deciding to see Grandmother's friend anyway. My visit is way overdue. And there isn't a total guarantee I can see her next month. I just hope and pray I'm not sick now.
Goddammit, why did they fuck with my stuff?
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