She better not unpack

Fuck alert. I am pissed.

because I am going to call a moving company and pay them WHATEVER amount of money they want to come put all her shit in a truck, her too, and just drive and drive and drive then shove everything out on the sidewalk in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I call my mother a few minutes ago to see if all her stuff got delivered, she responds, in my opinion, very snottily, "YES, at 8 o'clock this morning." I assume she is pissed that I haven't called or been there since then. Maybe it is just my own guilt thinking maybe I should have gone over there (I just read my sister's post for today and she did). But my mother has SO MUCH SHIT, and her apartment is NOT THAT BIG, and she smokes incessantly so what the fuck am I going to do but try not to get lung cancer and tacky disease? (As an example of how much she smokes, when we were getting in the truck to take her home last night, she lit a cigarette as she waited for me....to get.in.the.front.seat.and.close.the.door, took drags while we sat there, then got in the truck.)

Then she tells me how she broke a piece of her furniture moving it, and it was 39 years old, so it is "going to live out on her patio for awhile, maybe it can be fixed". Again, I am taking it like she is saying, if my horrible kid had been here to move it for me it wouldn't have happened.

All of this I may have been able to wrap up into my own little guilt burrito that I would have for breakfast tomorrow and go over and help her until....

"So, are you still at home?" To which I answer that I was. Then she said, "Did you do your work?"

fuck you. Don't you ever question my work ethic. Not ever. See, my mother does NOT have a work ethic, but her pretend work ethic is what allowed her to put the nail in the coffin of our family 15 years ago (she used work as a cover for an affair) and was an excuse for not having to parent my then 13 year old sister anymore. Also, since then she has lost several jobs for not showing up because she chooses instead to drink wine at 6am.

In case any of you are wondering? Yes, I have been working today, I am grading projects that are huge Access databases that are insanely boring, but I am forcing my way through them because I want to work on my research tomorrow afternoon while Mr. P plays golf .

However, have I also farmed on FaceBook, caught up on blogs, planned dinner, chosen my 1/2 marathon training plan, done laundry and dishes, caught up on FlashForward and Hell's Kitchen?

YES.

I am 40 fucking years old and I can stay at home all fucking day in my lobster pajama pants if I want to. DAMN it, I have worked very, very hard to get to the point that I can. I refuse to let her ruin it. This is my Thursday. This is how I spend most Thursday's. She better get fucking used to it.

Now that I have vented, I am going to put potatoes in for Mr. P. When he gets home I am going to make a big salad. Then we are going to have leftover pot roast served over baked potatoes and watch Survivor. We are NOT going to talk about my mother.