Home Sweet Home
Well, I knew there was a reason I decided to leave Dean and come home for a week. But what was it? Was it the horribly painful dentist appointment where the dentist got one of those pointy tools stuck in my tooth? Was it getting to listen to my mother badmouth each of our family and community members ceaselessly, in shifts, throughout eternity? Or wait, was it the joys of wrestling with a five-year-old computer while my mother insists that I somehow "download some karaoke to the iPod"? No, those all run a close race, but really, the thing that tipped the scales had to be getting up in the middle of the night and finding the kitchen flooded. And then spending the next two hours bailing it out...by which I mean continually soaking and wringing out towels and sponges into buckets and dumping them down the drain. There was literally no other way to get the water out. And of course, my mother being my mother, the space under the sink was crammed tightly with various old/outdated/duplicated/empty bottles, cans, and other containers of cleaning fluids and other materials. Oh, and a bunch of empty containers (think milk bottles, Cool Whip tubs, and Nesquik) that she "saved to put water in to clean sometimes." This is not to mention the sheer volume of STUFF on the floor, piled in bags and boxes and just...piled, that is all soaked and probably ruined and that I will probably have to help sort through in the morning. If I ever become even a fraction of the packrat my mother is, please shoot me.
But it gets better! Did I mention this is all my fault? You see, the pipe under the sink has been leaking for a week or so now. My mother has been putting paper towels all over the floor to soak up the water for days. You know, instead of just TURNING OFF THE WATER. So tonight I was watching TV in my room and I kept hearing this shhh....shhh sound. I couldn't immediately identify it, so I walked all around the house looking for it. Since it had just started, there wasn't any water on the floor yet, so I chalked it up to the A/C being bitchy. About an hour later, a horrible suspicion struck me: the shhh...shhh sound sounded exactly like how our water would run when air got in the pipes and caused it to surge and wane. So I get up to check on it again, and there's about an inch of water on the floor. I immediately wake up my mother, and cue the bailing out. She, however, insists that it is completely my fault that the kitchen flooded at all. Because "the A/C never makes a noise like that, so how could it have possibly been that?" Nevermind that I don't live here anymore and haven't for two years, so how the hell do I know what kind of sounds the A/C makes these days. Nevermind that she had been watching it drip for a week and hadn't gotten around to doing anything but soaking up the water every now and then. Nevermind that had I not kept checking it, my mother would have slept through the whole thing and the water would probably have gotten to and ruined the wood floors and carpeting by the time she woke up, whereas as it stands it only got on linoleum. Nope, all my fault. Please comment and confirm to me that this is only reasonable in my mother's crazy moon language.
God, I can't wait to get out of here and back to my warm safe dry apartment with Dean and kitties there to cuddle me. But now, even though she said yesterday she was ok with me leaving early if I felt like it, I will probably be required to stay as long as possible to "fulfill my responsibilities to the house." Is it Saturday yet? I need to get so drunk.
But it gets better! Did I mention this is all my fault? You see, the pipe under the sink has been leaking for a week or so now. My mother has been putting paper towels all over the floor to soak up the water for days. You know, instead of just TURNING OFF THE WATER. So tonight I was watching TV in my room and I kept hearing this shhh....shhh sound. I couldn't immediately identify it, so I walked all around the house looking for it. Since it had just started, there wasn't any water on the floor yet, so I chalked it up to the A/C being bitchy. About an hour later, a horrible suspicion struck me: the shhh...shhh sound sounded exactly like how our water would run when air got in the pipes and caused it to surge and wane. So I get up to check on it again, and there's about an inch of water on the floor. I immediately wake up my mother, and cue the bailing out. She, however, insists that it is completely my fault that the kitchen flooded at all. Because "the A/C never makes a noise like that, so how could it have possibly been that?" Nevermind that I don't live here anymore and haven't for two years, so how the hell do I know what kind of sounds the A/C makes these days. Nevermind that she had been watching it drip for a week and hadn't gotten around to doing anything but soaking up the water every now and then. Nevermind that had I not kept checking it, my mother would have slept through the whole thing and the water would probably have gotten to and ruined the wood floors and carpeting by the time she woke up, whereas as it stands it only got on linoleum. Nope, all my fault. Please comment and confirm to me that this is only reasonable in my mother's crazy moon language.
God, I can't wait to get out of here and back to my warm safe dry apartment with Dean and kitties there to cuddle me. But now, even though she said yesterday she was ok with me leaving early if I felt like it, I will probably be required to stay as long as possible to "fulfill my responsibilities to the house." Is it Saturday yet? I need to get so drunk.