Mum was on the phone last night with her filthy rich friend and started talking about me because I was writing instead of dutifully watching Law & Order SVU. (and she also doesn't understand how I can write, eat dinner, and watch television at the same time so she likes to tell other people about my strange habits and thus have someone else to confirm that yes Mich is a bit strange and no, don't worry it isn't you Mummy).
My mother also has this odd habit of giving people completely inaccurate information about her children even when she knows the information is false. Like that time a few years ago when she said to Granny, "Mich wears white face paint instead of makeup."
No, Mumsy; I have not worn white face makeup since I was goth. Ten years ago. I am actually this pale.
|...and have achieved my lifelong goal of having my skin the same colour as my hair.|
Or to her friends a year ago, "Mich was too hungover to cook Christmas dinner, so I had to do everything."
NO, I was violently ill because I ate too much Italian food (I'm assuming that was the cause, which in fairness was my own fault because I know I can't eat that) and yet I STILL managed to drag myself off the living room floor and away from the Christmas Story marathon to disembowel the goose and use its innards for the stuffing. Mum peeled the potatoes before going back to bed.
Anyway I could go on and on and on about this, but I'm sure none of you want to hear it, so I'll get back to last night.
I feel like a whiny little brat complaining about this.
I have few accomplishments in life, and few skills and talents about which to brag. I do not have the epic brainpower of Big Sis#1 and Lil Bro #2. I do not have the supernatural musical abilities of Lil Bro #1. I do not have smart and talented children to show off to friends and family. I can write stuff fairly well. That's it.
Mum knows exactly how many books I've written because she has read them all, and she has bragged about it to others. But for some reason whilst talking to her rich friend, she decided to slice a few novels off the top.
"Mich has written 2 books."
I guess maybe she feels like she has no business bragging to rich friend because rich friend's daughter is the super-genius wonderchild who managed to get two bachelors degrees in 3 years?
Mich has written SEVEN books and one novella.
That's 2 + 5.
( = 7.)
Yes, I know, I'm a whiny little brat. But I can't help that it bothers me. Like when Mum claims not to know that I hate cheese, or that I am left-handed. I will allow Dad these things because he has five children to remember and when you're the third daughter born before the first son, you should count yourself lucky you weren't left in a basket on the mountainside to die.
I was totally going somewhere with this post and veered way off into another direction.....
DEE has pneumonia. My ability to function has dropped by about 80%.