Further Adventures With Mommie Dearest
No adventure, really, just my late-night need to vent about this abomination of a human being.
Basically, she refuses to take out the dog, even at night.
This pisses me off to no end.
I don’t think this is petty, either. It’s her damn dog. But she seems to think she’s doing me a favor by taking him out to piss or whatever.
See, I take him out in the mornings I have to work–since I have to be at work at 7, this makes sense. I suppose she takes him out once or twice before she goes to work (which is usually at 10, maybe 9 once every couple of weeks, but sometimes it’s as late as 12), but then I get home and take him out as frequently as needed. But, do you think she takes him out for his last walk at night? Hell no. She rushes to get to bed before me so I have to take him out. Seriously. She says something like how I’m always up later with him. Uh, no. That’s because she runs to bed so she doesn’t have to take the damn dog around the yard. The only reason I stay up as late as I do during the week is because she gets home late, and I, for whatever reason, have this sense of guilt if I want to go to be earlier, and that I should stay up and eat dinner with her (usually around 9), then watch TV for a few hours. (I realize that part isn’t technically her fault, though all of her children know that she is a master manipulator; I’ve told her that I have no will power and need her help to get myself in to bed earlier. My whole life I’ve been a night owl, and it’s hard for me to make myself go to sleep, honestly. If I could manage to actually get into the pattern of going to bed early, I’d be fine, but it’s a vicious circle. And she doesn’t want to help me.)
So yes, I’m pissed off at the moment. I just don’t think it’s asking so much that she take the damn dog out at night. If it’s 11:30 and you know that your daughter gets up at 5 god damn 30 in the morning, be a fucking sport and walk the dog. And do it without huffing and puffing and acting as if you’re being put out, you fucking cunt.
Hell, after my first day at my job, I was crawling in to bed, exhausted, and she jumped down my throat because I didn’t take the dog out. Fucking seriously.
I can’t even talk about this right now. It just pisses me off so unbelievably…oh my god. She’s just a horrible, sociopathic, entitled excuse for a human being. She’s also under the impression that she works so much harder than I do. Because she’s old, that means it’s harder. Never mind that half the time she’s at work, she’s sitting on her ass on a couch. Reading. Or knitting. I’d say the average of 15 hours of actual labor she puts in during the week is more than off-set by the 25 hours that she doesn’t have to do much of anything at all.
Fucking cunt bitch.