Are We There Yet?

I’ve got what, two and a half months left of this bullshit?  I suck at familying.

I picked a couple of decent days to visit manchild.  His Dad was out of town and his Mom was at their other house waiting on deliveries and having new carpet installed during the day.  That meant we exchanged no more than 10 words with each other in 48 hours.  Today was on off day.  FIL is back in down (left early for work this morning) and Harpy was doing her sigh and stare off into space from her recliner routine.  She monopolized the coffee maker this morning with her shitty, watered down light roast so I had an energy drink.  Caffeine is caffeine.  I didn’t bring any ground coffee because I sent the Keurig down with MC and had assumed he found a home for it.  Ha, yeah right.

My Mom had an appointment with a new allergist this afternoon near Harpy nest and we had already planned for this to be my pick-up day when she dropped me off on Tuesday.  After two nights of sleeping on a rock hard, twin sized mattress and bashing my feet on the footboard when I stretched out, I was looking forward to a night of decent sleep.  Or, at least being able to stretch out in bed to keep my legs from cramping up.  I was getting my stuff together and apparently Harpy forgot I told her I’d be leaving Thursday afternoon.  She was upset with me for leaving because they have things to do at the other house this weekend and she doesn’t want to leave the helpless manchild alone.  If it takes three people to look after a 30-something man, that man should see this as a problem to work on.  Who looks after me?  98% of the time, I do.  I’m the man!

Harpy threw a little tantrum and locked herself up in her bedroom like she does, and I quickly tossed my shit into the back of my Mom’s car.  Apparently, I’m supposed to go back down tomorrow evening so they can fuck off for the weekend.  I do have a couple of things to do tomorrow.  Like dialysis, clean out the lizard tank, laundry, repack all of my stuff into one bag for easier transport, and I dunno…chill the fuck out so I don’t rip someone’s face off.

I got a new phone that gets better signal, massively improved battery life over my old phone, and will hopefully be more reliable.  It’s too large for a pocket and way too large for my hands, but you’ll have that when you’ve got tiny mitts.  It runs all of the video streaming apps, so I can also use it as yet another way to ignore assholes.

Speaking of distraction, I trimmed the new yarn fluff off of the blanket I’ve been aggressively working on.  Rub one out, crochet one out, whatever.  It’s difficult to hit people when your hands are tied up.


The color is ‘Glacier Bay tweed’, a greenish-blue color with flecks of red, orange and yellow.  I think I’m doing it wrong, but I don’t care.  It’s 60 inches wide, and I’ve got about 35 inches of the eventual 72 in length.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re having more fun than I am!

11 thoughts on “Are We There Yet?

  1. Love the blanky! Sound just like a mess of back and forth stress and like you’re being ‘ponged’ around at everyone elses will. Hope you’re at least getting a little bit of a break inbetween your needed outings and being MCs caregiver. Or at least more of a break than to just crochet one out 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • Shanks! When I lived at home, I hated all people. When I left home, I discovered most people aren’t so bad. Now I’m back, and I’m beginning to hate all people again. A bunch of rotten, joy killing rabble rousers. I’d kick ’em all in the knees if it wouldn’t cause me to fall on my ass. Oh well, at least it’s temporary…for now.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Oy! It’s sounds like a lot of unnecessary bs. And you know me, I hate unnecessary. I feel for ya. I keep hoping my MIL will get a house dropped on her.

    BUT, yay for the new phone! And the blanket looks very soft. Just keep breathing. You guys are gonna get through this and get back to terribly boring routines and exploring the DMV! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • I can’t wait! Boring is good. I’m so out of place here. These people have too much junk so there isn’t enough room for an extra body, nevermind all of the stuff I brought with me. Most of it was stuff he forgot to bring. We’re going to need a moving truck to get it all back to murrlind. He bought a TV, a receiver, speakers, another fucking recliner, and other random crap we probably already have ten of at home. Too much stuff! He may not make it ’til surgery if my evil ovary has its way. 😈 And now I’m rambling. Cool. 😉

      Liked by 2 people

  3. Beee-oo-tee-fulll blanket!!! Knitting is such a great way to prevent murder. And you get to keep the finished product, unless you’re me. I just rip them out, ball up the yarn, and make something else out of it. A habit left over from the days when I used knitting as a way to stop smoking, you know, something to do with my hands instead of waving my cig around. Now I can’t knit because I still haven’t had the torn cartilage in my wrist fixed. This too will come to pass, in its time, but not right now.

    Childish antics of Harpy, jezziz, what is she, a twelve year old? My mother does that too. That’s why I left home at 16. Frankly, I don’t think MC ever had a fair chance to develop his ballocks, with that ball buster mother. Lucky she didn’t just bite ’em off while she was at work eating the placenta after he was born.

    A recliner. OK, well, the man has to be comfortable. He must survive this ordeal, so a few creature comforts are understandable. But now that he has them, was me, I’d report the credit card as lost or stolen, then not give him a copy when they send the new one (with a different number). Remember, he’s used to all kinds of head games, so until he called the issuer to complain, there would be a few weeks (days?) of purchase respite….nothing wrong with the old switcheroo when financial survival is at stake!!!

    Love ya, honey chile…

    Liked by 1 person

    • It’s going to take a year to recover after all of this is over. Yup. I’ll make some happy social worker rich. I don’t know why the simple act of keeping my mouth shut and remaining courteous hurts my brain so badly. People…so exhausting…no mas!

      Liked by 2 people

      • Uh…ok, so it’s not YOUR mouth that’s hurting your brain. But you might get headaches from jaw clamping, on top of the headaches from her evil mouth. And you’re also seriously ill, which takes up a lot of bullshit tolerance energy, as you know.

        Keeping your mouth clamped shut under an unrelenting onslaught of abuse, both verbal and behavioral, while watching your husband being infantilized by his ball-busting murder, is frankly more that most people are capable of tolerating. I mean, women in India set themselves on fire for this sort of thing. Don’t.

        I think a therapist is a great idea. At least they are a warm body that one can scream and cry in the same room with. When I was stuck with my mother for four years, if I had not had a therapist I would not have survived. I mean it.

        A year+. 🎶 One day at a time🎶 🔫🔪💣💉💊(why do they put all the arsenic and old lace icons in the same area?) Avoiding homicide and suicide is of course paramount.


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