Further Ranting...

Okay. So I try to put my life into perspective. I read books like "Sickened" recounting traumatized childhoods in which parents have hospitals perform surgeries on children who are perfectly healthy. I read about documented domestic child abuse. I read about all kinds of things to try and appreciate what I do have.

But time and time again I have to face the facts:
My parents are just crazy. They may love me, but they are fucking psychotic. They enjoy manipulating me. I suspect that they set me up to fail at home time and time again.

Take today, for instance. I did all the dishes. Wiped all the counters. Tidied things up a bit.

My mom makes applesauce. She throws the rinds in the sink, effectively clogging it. Then dumps the pot, the applesauce maker (including the detached razor-sharp blades), some bowls, a pot with salsa that has been burnt onto it (do not ask me why my mom cooked salsa I don't know why), and some other odds and ends - silverware, plates, etc...into the sink. In the process of burning the salsa, it overflowed the pot and crusted onto the stovetop. Then she proceeded to drink and misplace about 3 cups of various beverages throughout the house.

I am at my computer through all this, typing up a contract for work, when my mom bursts in without knocking. After she enters, she says, "Knock knock!" like a three year old, jumps onto my bed and says, "I'm sick."

"Great mom. Now you got sick germs all over my bed."

She looks at me and smiles like a little kid. "Whadya doin?"

"Work." I say, a bit short. Trying to give her the hint.

"What KIND of work?"

"Work for the gallery."

At which she exclaims how proud she is that I'm working there full time, starting tomorrow.

"Okay, mom," is all I say, as I am trying to finish the contract before I go to work tomorrow.

"You have dishes," she says. "And I'm stealing your humidifier."

She then proceeds to take HALF of my humidifier, rendering it inoperable for both of us. "You take the other half to my room," she says. I am ready to argue with her. She is right there, in my room, taking a PART of it. She could easily have taken the whole thing, which weighs MAYBE five pounds as it is currently empty of water. I don't. I carry the rest to her room, dump it, and go into the kitchen, ignoring her calls to come talk with her. I am tired. I am done.

I look at the sink, which is half-way full with murky water. I know that somewhere in there are two sharp apple-slicing blades. I take a breath, and carefully find them first, then dig around further, having to unclog the sink several times before it can drain completely. I wash everything except the salsa pot, which I fill with water and soap to soak. I know that in the morning, this will be reprimanded. I don't care.

I have to use a razorblade to scrape off the cook-top. I leave all the pots and pans in the strainer. I am not putting anything else away tonight. I am done. Kaput. No more. I am overwhlemed by my schedule for the next 48 hours which reads something like:
7am wake up, shower, dress
8am leave for work
8:30am-4:30pm work at the gallery
5-6pm possibly eat dinner, possibly make a house-call to a client.
6-7:30pm meet with the family I tutor for to go over dog-sitting arrangements
7:45 get home, if I didn't already, eat dinner now. Do dishes. Try to get laundry done. Answer all work-related emails.
10pm pretend that I am going to sleep
Midnight - get reprimanded by my boyfriend for not going to sleep yet
2am out like a light
6am - force self out of bed
6:30-1pm work at the cafe
1:30-5pm work at the gallery
5:30 come home, eat dinner, do dishes
6:30-8:30 work on some graphic design
8:30-10pm keep telling myself I need to go to sleep while becoming distracted. Try to get more laundry done.

...well. You get the idea. The next two weeks are going to be like that, with the exception of the weekends, which I'm sure will be equally as busy.

SO not looking forward to this...