Not much of a fun mishmash this Monday, I'm afraid. Too many angry and upset and depressed feels.
I had an amazing weekend. Drummerboy and I went for nice long walks both Saturday and Sunday. We had dinner Saturday night and went to see some live music. Later Sunday afternoon, we watched one of my all time favourite movies (Stardust).
When I left Dad's to drive down to see a friend for her birthday so me and M. could take her to dinner, I was in such a happy place I was singing opera in the car.
And then my f***ing mother ruined it.
Since I usually return to
hell Bergen County in the late afternoon, I texted Mumsy
to let her know I would be home later than usual, because we were taking Mel out to dinner for her birthday. The following bullshit ensued:
After she accused me of lying, I got too flustered to type, so I pulled over and called her. I was also too flustered to even form coherent sentences. I tried to explain that I was really confused as to why she needed me to call and tell her I was coming home a little later than usual, which is when she denied ever receiving the text message informing her of same.
Then she started yelling and said I'm taking advantage of her, she will not be watching my cats on the weekend anymore, and then she hung up on me, leaving me kind of stunned for a few moments before I started crying hysterically.
I know I'm asking a lot for her to feed my cats on the weekends (I think? I personally don't think opening a couple tins of cat food twice a day is a lot, but okay....).
I also ask her EVERY SINGLE FRIDAY if she is absolutely sure she doesn't mind feeding my cats for the weekend, and thank her profusely for looking after them, and try to insist that she tell me if there is ever a weekend she doesn't feel like doing it.
If she refuses to take care of Harley and Ivy, I can't spend the weekends at dad's. Dad is allergic to cats, so I can't bring them (plus I think it would stress the kitties out a lot more if they're being carted from one house to another twice a week).
This means I can't play in the band at church anymore, which is one of the only two things currently keeping me from shooting myself in the f**king face. (The other thing being Drummerboy, who also lives up there and who I'd have to see much less if I can't stay overnight at dad's Friday to Sunday.)
So poor Mel and M. had to deal with me being a soggy weepy mess in the middle of the restaurant when we were supposed to be celebrating Mel's birthday.
I need to get out of my mother's house. Like now. This leaves me with one option as far as finding an apartment I can afford, and finding one fast.
|Newburgh, NY, the Murder Capital of New York State.|
I'm going to see a few apartments this coming weekend. Hopefully I won't get shot.