Dec. 8th, 2005

icewolf: snowy wolf (Default)
Time for a House-Cleaning

The Inalienable Right to a Remote Remember, folks, that the party of financial restraint is in charge *roll eyes*

Ooh, and a personal hot button of mine, Truth for the Troops
icewolf: snowy wolf (Shut up)
I would like to preface the following entry with the caveat that I am fully aware that, as families, go, mine rocks. There are a lot of people out there who have really, truly, insane families filled with hate, bitterness, abuse, and general ickiness. All I can offer to you all is my heartfelt sympathy.

But I'd like to let off a little steam anyway.

Some people signal the start of winter with the first snowfall. Others, with the hibernal equinox.

Me, I can tell winter's here when my mother loses her mind.

I'm convinced Mom has seasonal affective disorder. When it's warm and sunny, she's a perfectly sane person, willing to let her 32-year-old, married, hasn't-lived-at-home-since-she-was-18 daughter live her own life on her own terms. But when it becomes dark and cold and the sun's going down in the neighborhood of 4:30, she becomes a crazy lady. She gets possessive and clingy. Everything's a personal affront. The unspoken accusation is that I'm a Bad Daughter who doesn't care about her anymore in my selfish persuit of the weirdness that is my life. It's looking to be worse this winter because for the first time ever, there are no kids to raise AND no job to go to. Mom officially retired last June. God save us all. Dad is staying busy with a hand in the Columbans and his wedding ministry, but my mother has nothing to do but clean an already clean house and keep doctors' appointments. Which she hates. My own loathing for the medical profession doesn't come from nowhere. She's apparently had a few twinges and hiccups in the last few months, which has precipitated a few extra doctor trips, which make her nuts. So she shares the love. Oh, joy.

In in the midst of all this falls Christmas.

Kill. Me. Now.

The situation isn't being helped by Tor's mother. Those of you who know me know why I hate my mother in law. Hate. The real thing. Love flipped on its head. Yeah, that. Those of you who don't know me as well, trust me when I say I have damn good reason. Well, MIL has decided to start playing silly buggers. Tor's brother will be in Staten Island for about a week before he flies out to his new posting in London. MIL is having one of her over the top, mind numbing, free for all, open houses on Christmas Day. I will cuddle up to an ebola monkey before I will endure another one of these. Tor and I, therefore, arranged to take his brother out to brunch in Manhattan on the 26th. Tor's brother has accepted our invitation. MIL, on the other hand, has thrown a fit. See, Tor's brother is flying out at 7 o'clock that night, and she's up in arms that it's their last day to see him. Never mind that they'll have had the previous 6 days. Never mind that we'll have him back there by noon.

Re-enter my mother, condemning these antics in the same breath with which she has just ordered me home for Christmas.

You know what I want for Christmas?

I want a quiet, candle-lit service on Christmas Eve.
I want everybody to grow up and get along. Not for me, but because that's what grownups do.
I want all toxicity out of my life.

...

I want a crate of full-spectrum light bulbs.

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icewolf: snowy wolf (Default)
Icewolf

August 2011

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