(no subject)
I need to leave my house. Now.
I woke up to the pleasant smell of gasoline or kerosene, and went downstairs to learn that toxic fumes are spewing through our house and our heat isn't working. How fun. Luckily, we have a little branch of our house with our living room and entrance that isn't the main part of the house, and it has a door, so I rush around grabbing cats and dogs and shoving them in there, so they don't die of whatever that smell is. I sit and chat with my parents in the living room while we eat breakfast and joke about the smell. They inform that the heat people are coming "some time today" to fix it. I tell them I'm going out today, and my parents say fine, that it's a good idea to get out of the house.
Two hours later, I begin to walk out of the door, and my parents ask me where I'm going.
"Out."
"No!" my mother shrieks. "I have to go pick up Alexander from his friend's house. Someone needs to be here for the heat people."
"Isn't dad going to be here?"
"No, he's leaving for New York City today."
"He's not leaving until 5 or 6."
At which point my mother starts sobbing and rushes up to her room because "all of this" is just too much to handle. (these kind of things make her "emotional"), and my dad comes in and tells me to stop upsetting my mother.
So now I am in my room which is progressively getting colder, waiting until I am given "permission" to leave, if ever. *sigh*
Pourquoi est ma vie si difficile?
I woke up to the pleasant smell of gasoline or kerosene, and went downstairs to learn that toxic fumes are spewing through our house and our heat isn't working. How fun. Luckily, we have a little branch of our house with our living room and entrance that isn't the main part of the house, and it has a door, so I rush around grabbing cats and dogs and shoving them in there, so they don't die of whatever that smell is. I sit and chat with my parents in the living room while we eat breakfast and joke about the smell. They inform that the heat people are coming "some time today" to fix it. I tell them I'm going out today, and my parents say fine, that it's a good idea to get out of the house.
Two hours later, I begin to walk out of the door, and my parents ask me where I'm going.
"Out."
"No!" my mother shrieks. "I have to go pick up Alexander from his friend's house. Someone needs to be here for the heat people."
"Isn't dad going to be here?"
"No, he's leaving for New York City today."
"He's not leaving until 5 or 6."
At which point my mother starts sobbing and rushes up to her room because "all of this" is just too much to handle. (these kind of things make her "emotional"), and my dad comes in and tells me to stop upsetting my mother.
So now I am in my room which is progressively getting colder, waiting until I am given "permission" to leave, if ever. *sigh*
Pourquoi est ma vie si difficile?