you know, at soon-to-be-24 years, living at home is one of those things you really can't appreciate anymore. while i'm ready for my own life, living at home means taking care of three other ones as well. where was everyone at 8 this morning that i had to answer an incessantly ringing phone and an incessantly ringing doorbell... only to find no one at either! so i'm cranky.
to top it off, there is no water.
the water pipes froze in the still unfinished addition and ended up bursting, so there's water all over the place in there and the kitchen. this addition was supposed to be finished in august. dad is now five months behind and counting. i'm taking bets as to when he will actually finish. (note: our basement is still a work in progress after 16 years.) i can't give him too much crap since he has done a lot of work in the time he's worked on the addition. it's just i'd rather not be here when it's finished. that just means he expects me to move to the current master bedroom, which in turn means he expects me to stay here. FOREVER.
last night during dinner, mom said, "save some of that for tom." (we were eating shrimp and fish.) i looked at her and stopped eating. i asked, "why do i have to pretend i care about him?" she clicked her tongue at me and went on eating. then dad said, "do you know that you can make $7,000 a week selling cell phones? that's $400,000 a year." so? "i can buy a store for tom and make him a permanent family employee." (those were his exact words.) so i asked, "why do you keep trying to keep him around when you know he doesn't want to be here?" they just don't get it.
mom gave me a nasty look this last weekend because i spent a whole three days with ryan. oh my fucking god, i've made a pact with the devil. what's wrong with her? it's not enough that i involuntarily pent myself up in the house all week? that i come home rightafterworkasfastasican? that i eat dinner with them every night of the week? that i don't ever leave the house on a weeknight? i spend one night out of the house, and they act like i've committed a cardinal sin. i walk in and i get their : faces, followed by silence the next day. i do it every week, they know i'll do it every week, so they had better fucking get used to it. oh, it's no problem if tom does it every fucking night of the week. no, he's GOD and he cannot be admonished.
mom also took $100 from my pay. why? because she thinks she deserves it. for what? for doing things i tell her not to do because i can do them? how many times have i asked her to stop taking my laundry so i can do it? how many times have i asked her to stop opening my fucking mail because i'm not 5 years old? how many times have i asked her to stop coming into the bathroom when i'm in the shower because i'm fucking 24 years old?
tom is back to his old habits, and suddenly my routine has come under scrutiny. what a fucking madhouse.
damnit, i need a shower.