Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Wordfilled Wednesday - Frustrated
This is how I feel right now.
Evan is spending the night with my mother tonight.
Usually when he spends the night, she picks him up after 5 pm. Because she doesn't like to cook. So if she picks him up after dinner, she only has to cook breakfast the next day.
So I decide to go to Wal-mart to do some grocery shopping. At 3:30. Evan called my mother before we left to ask exactly when she was going to pick him up. No answer. He left a message.
We did the grocery shopping and got home at about 4:45. I checked my messages. She left me a long ass rambling message that I deleted before I'd listened to the whole thing (I tend to delete all of her messages as soon as I hear her voice because she doesn't understand the concept of "Clear and Concise" messages). She drove over here twice to pick him up. Once before we called, and then again right after she got our message.
When I dropped him off, she said, with much attitude, "Where were you people? I've been over there twice already."
Me - *Instantly pissed off* WHY have you been there twice? Normally when you pick him up, you do it AFTER dinner because you don't like to cook, right?
She - *nothing*
Me - So when we weren't there the first time, WHY would you go over there a second time AFTER you'd gotten the message asking when you were picking him up? WHY wouldn't you wait for us to call again???
She - *nothing*
Me - NORMALLY, you wouldn't get out of your damned recliner to drive over here TWICE without KNOWING that we're at home!
She - Well...I tried to call, but you didn't answer the phone.
Me - Exactly, which is why you shouldn't have driven back over there before you spoke to us!
She - Well you don't always answer your phone you know.
Me - That's because I have caller ID. Whatever. You're right, I'm wrong.
She - Well I don't know who's right or wrong -
Me - I don't CARE who's right or wrong. My back is killing me and I want to go home. I'm tired of this conversation.
She - Leave then.
Me - *Leaving without another word*
What frustrates me so much is that I allow her to push all my fucking buttons. Almost every time I see her it's like I'm sixteen again feeling FULL HATRED for her.I wish I had the fortitude to IGNORE THE FUCKING SPAWN OF SATAN ALL THE TIME.
On top of HER, I'm cutting back on my smoking.
Which leaves me in a permanent state of Pissosity.
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