I'm at work today, but I'm taking the rest of the week off as vacation. I suppose that should make me nervous since I don't have short term disability anymore. What if I get hit by a truck tomorrow? Be that as it may, I am indeed using up some ET in order to work on a few little projects around the house, which you can be sure you'll hear about, whether you want to or not.
But can I tell you? The blog title is exactly what I will be hearing from the old man for the entire week. When I put up the Blik wall art last week and I showed it to him, asked if he liked it, etc, his response was, "It's nice. Why are you doing that? Are you going to turn this into a massage office when I die?"
I told him, yeah, I was *just waiting* for him to kick off so I can annex his bedroom and make it my new office. Eyeroll. Then I patiently explained that I was doing it because when the house looks pretty, it makes me feel better and happier. He just doesn't get it. I declutter the kitchen and while he agrees it looks better, he's all "but whyyyyyy?" I clean a bunch of crap out, and he bitches because there's too much trash going out. Yeah, that's what happens when you frigging clean. It makes trash. The city has to pick up all our trash, no matter how much we put out. Why are you stressing?
I realize that part of why I didn't even bother with even trying for awhile--besides, of course, the bad years with D sucking up all my mental energy and will for a time--was all his resistance to change, to doing anything, to spending the money (even when it's my money), etc etc. Why even try when all you get is complaints? But now that he's completely dependant on me and there's no equal balance of power any more, I'm at the point where, fuck it. I'ma do whatever I want, and he can just be bewildered and/or bitch and/or decide this is some sign that I just can't wait for him to die. Is that horrible? I try to be sensitive to the fact that he's an old man with many anxiety and OCD issues (the crazee doesn't fall far from the tree) but all the stuff I am doing is good. And a little anxiety and discomfort never killed anyone. Believe me, I know.
xoxo
P.S. Suck it, Manning.
4 comments:
Your dad sounds like the 2 yr old daughter of one of my cleaning clients. She gets very upset when I move things while Im cleaning. lol She constantly asks me "Where are you going with my chair? Why are you moving my toys/ mommy's chair/ whatever Im moving". I always tell her why and promise to put it back. She does not like anyone touching her things, nor anything else in the house.
My parents are very resistant to change also. Surely our generation is not the 1st to discover that life is all about change and that nothing is permanent...is it? Hmmm...is it a generational thing, or a dysfunctional thing?
Pondering...
My hypothesis of the moment is that life was so totally disordered and fucked up for our parents in their Depression-era childhoods that they invented this pseudo-stability after the war...and forgot it was an invention. Even though the illusion has been caved in for 40 years they cling to it. I think that's the little engine that drives a large chunk of conservatism as well as driving crazy those of us with living parents. If my parents were still around I have no doubt I'd be having the same problems with them.
Geaux You and Geaux Saints!! Sorry we didn't see you at the Stupor, I mean Super Bowl.
Yeah, I heard your party, your jumbalaya, and your hurricanes all kicked ass :-) Sorry to have missed it!
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