16 hours till the 20th anniversary of my 22nd...

And I'm sitting here transfixed by a desire to sob like a baby. I really thought I was getting better. I was going to pull out of the total and complete funk I have been in since December. Yes, I am running a marathon but the end is in sight.

Sigh. Not so much. First, to be clear. I love my birthday. I know it isn't in vogue at my age to like it so much, but I do. If nothing else, I'm impressed I haven't killed myself in a car accident before now (anyone who has ridden in a car with me can attest to the problems a limited attention span can cause to one's capabilities as a driver.)

So, generally speaking, I am happy weeks before my birthday as I anticipate the fun of being delightfully happy all day long. Presents are lovely, yes. But it is nice to have people be nice all day just cause it's my day.

Inadvertent though it may have been, something about being told to compare myself to my younger version makes me want to weep. I loved younger me. I was confident. I still though I could choose my own destiny etc etc.

I look at myself now and NOTHING has gone the way I thought it would. I am in no way living the life I envisioned for myself. I think I've mostly learned to be happy with who and what I am, but it doesn't mean that I might not have wished things had gone differently.

And, of course, then I get to think about where I am today, literally specifically today.

Living with my parents is exhausting. They are lovely, and I totally appreciate the fact they let me move in with them as I work through this stupid house purchase, but it doesn't mean I have enjoyed living through months of being in a 10x10 room with most of my stuff in storage and unable to find ANYTHING I'm looking to find. I am trying to be respectful of Dad's desire to be the only one to answer the phone and to not be on my phone in the house and to come in a respectful time when I have been out and to do all the other crap you do when living in someone else's house. I'm sure I'm failing at all sorts of stuff and annoying the hell out of them too. But every minute makes me tired. I've gone to bed at 8pm so many times, I think my parents are slightly freaked out.

I am exercising. That is great. But it is an obsession because I can't control anything else in my life. Quite honestly, I hurt most days when I finish and I always dread starting. The kids make me feel guilty for leaving them to go run, and then I'm tired and disgusting but still at work for another hour or two trying to get pages done.

And this is the year that I can't seem to motivate the kids, get them to meet deadlines, etc etc and I have a weird mother trying to get my job (ha, she can have it) and next year I'm responsible for the regular yearbook AND the district 100th anniversary book. I'm certain THAT'S going to go well.

I am buying my 4th home. Great. But I am paying more than I wanted to pay. I'm going to have less money once I buy than I planned on having. And I am without a doubt moving into the most disgusting place I've ever bought. Possibly seen. Seriously dirty and the more I think about it the more I think how much I need to do to be able to fix up the home...with money I don't have.

Oh, and relationships.....hahahahahahaha. To have met a guy that I think is really amazing and fantastic and to now be uncertain about if it will ever work itself out or if I have just been wrong about him and us makes me just a little bit nuts. But on top of everything else? It just all makes me want to weep. Right here. Right now. Non stop. And I can feel the acid in my stomach burning holes through the lining. Super.

Fox News how I loath you

Quite frankly, it has nothing to do with politics and everything to do with the 3:30 - 10:30 full volume in surround sound playing of fox news. Every. single. night. Loudly.

And my dad likes to berate the T.V. a lot. So O'Riley doesn't give people a chance to respond to the questions. Instead of watching something else, Dad just yells at the TV.

Occasionally the TV gets changed to some show that my parents watch. He berates the characters on the show too. It's really a good time.

On another note, yet still on the far right nut job side, on the way home from church today (please note, today is Christmas Day) we pass a mosque being built.

Dad, "I don't have anything against them in particular, but I wouldn't mind if that didn't go up."

Mom, "Yeah, like a gas leak or something that causes the building to explode but doesn't kill anyone."

Holy crap I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

Tonights fun and games

The phone rings as I am approaching the dinner table. Now, I had been told dinner would be at 5pm. It is now after 6pm. I had planned to meet up with some friends after dinner. So, I race to the phone. I don't answer but I send a text that say just sitting down to dinner.

As I finish typing my mother says, "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't text during the entire meal."

"I'm sorry have I sat at dinner with you YET and texted through the meal?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You don't know if you have seen me sit at a meal and text? Would you prefer I get up from the table and talk on the phone through the meal time or to send a text that says I can't text? Why is it no matter the situation you always jump to the worst conclusion?"

Cue crickets here.

And then suddenly she wants to be complimentary of my hair and my top and whatever else.

SHOOT. ME.

Convo with parents"

"Honey will you let me know when you won't be here for dinner?" my mother asks sweetly.

"Sure, I say."

NEXT DAY

"Hey, I won't be here Thursday evening."

Mom stares at me blankly.

"I'm going out with Randy and Diana."

"Oh, so you're going to be too smashed to come home?"

What the FUCK? Are you kidding me?

"Uh, no. Didn't you ask me to let you know when I wouldn't be here for dinner? What would possess you to say that to me?"

"Well, I didn't know."

NEXT DAY

I come into the kitchen and mom and dad have just finished a fish dinner. I make a sandwich as I loath fish.

Mom says, "I thought you weren't going to be here tonight."

"No, that's tomorrow night. Thursday. And I wrote it on the calendar...like you asked me to do."

"Oh, I got confused."

Sigh. Yes, I see that.

My parents

So, last Saturday I packed up the stuff I thought I would need for 1 - 6 months (yeah, try packing with no idea of how long you'll be somewhere) and took it to my parent's home. Yes, I am very grateful my parents agreed to put the dog and myself up for a somewhat questionable length of time.

First, I had to start cleaning. I know they are getting along in years, so they can't really see, and my dad has always been a bit of a pig pen, but I am telling you the place was disgusting.

My parents arrived back in town after visiting my aunt and uncle on Monday night.

Then the real fun began.

My father, "She's been cleaning. I can't find the Goddamn jigger." (Said, obviously in a totally disgusted voice.)

"The glass jigger on the counter? I just used it." (Now, my need for a jigger was legit this place and my lovely parents demand alcohol to survive. For my dad, it was purely academic, he wasn't making a drink. He was just pissed the bar area was clean.)

"No, not that one."

"The plastic one?" I asked.

"No, not that one."

"What does it look like?" I asked.

"I can't remember, but it's missing."

OK.