one of these days, to the fucking moon
my stepmother knows precisly how to fuck up my day.
let it be known that i recognize Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as a true stigma, and I sympathize with those who have it, i have a few tendencies myself. But at this point I think she's just seeing how much she can get away with when it comes to fucking with me.
This morning I went downstairs to click on the big screen tv, and I have a tendency (If you can call it that) to leave the remote controls on the couch, but I never let them drop on the floor. I couldn't find the remotes, so I automatically suspected foul play. I call her up at work to find out where she put them, and she indeed hid them under some blankets. I'm no pro at vocabulary, but I'm sure you can file that under "childish".
Just to get away from her before she came home from work, I went up tostarbucks and the mall and just did idle window shopping. This is getting old.
The worst part is, I think this is just a game shes playing. My dad (with VERY good reason) tells her daily that she has too much patience with her son, who's occupation is pretty much fucking up their lives (getting thrown in jail, bringing in strangers to the house, stealing a few items for starters).
I come live there, and I do a few ditzy things, but I still make it my duty to keep my room in order, and I drop a few dry towels on my bedroom floor, and it's like I killed her fucking mother. She's comparing me to a multiple felon with severe issues at age 22. Shen-Fucking-Nannigans.
I can't even look at her right now.
let it be known that i recognize Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as a true stigma, and I sympathize with those who have it, i have a few tendencies myself. But at this point I think she's just seeing how much she can get away with when it comes to fucking with me.
This morning I went downstairs to click on the big screen tv, and I have a tendency (If you can call it that) to leave the remote controls on the couch, but I never let them drop on the floor. I couldn't find the remotes, so I automatically suspected foul play. I call her up at work to find out where she put them, and she indeed hid them under some blankets. I'm no pro at vocabulary, but I'm sure you can file that under "childish".
Just to get away from her before she came home from work, I went up tostarbucks and the mall and just did idle window shopping. This is getting old.
The worst part is, I think this is just a game shes playing. My dad (with VERY good reason) tells her daily that she has too much patience with her son, who's occupation is pretty much fucking up their lives (getting thrown in jail, bringing in strangers to the house, stealing a few items for starters).
I come live there, and I do a few ditzy things, but I still make it my duty to keep my room in order, and I drop a few dry towels on my bedroom floor, and it's like I killed her fucking mother. She's comparing me to a multiple felon with severe issues at age 22. Shen-Fucking-Nannigans.
I can't even look at her right now.