I dont get no trust.

So I get home from work, and there’s Patches, my favorite kitty of the house perched right by the dining room table. She’s there mostly every night, waiting for me to come home so I can turn on the sink in the downstairs bathroom and let her drink from it.

While she’s drinking, I change. My bedroom is anything, but nea and clean right now. That’s mostly because of my mama’s hypocratic ways. You see, if I leave my clothes in the dryer for any reason at all; be it they’re still wet, I’m tired and want to go to bed, going to work…etc…I get into trouble. I get into more trouble if I leave clothes in the washer. Folks I’m talking starting world war 3 kind of trouble. And I can count on one hand, with fingers left over how many times I’ve let clothes alone in the dryer in the past three years I’ve lived here.

My clothes are strewn over my floor, because my laundry hamper is over flowing with even more clothes. This is because, as I said, mamas a hypocriate who leaves her clothes in the washer and dryer for days at a time.

I used to fold them, and finish them for her, but after the last fight that started over me leaving clothes in the dryer to put through a second time because they were wet, I’ve stopped doing mamas laundry, therefore I haven’t had time to do a single load since the week before Christmas.

I have knitting stuff all over my room as well; from my month straight of knitting since thanksgiving. Though those supplies are neatly strewn over my room, packed in boxes, it’s still everywhere.

The funny thing about it, is I know exactly where everything is. I know my heart shoes are under that pile, the yarn I need is in that box, and anything else is strategically placed and remembered.

I noticed I had a drinking glass gone from my room; the one I keep in there for night time…well, my night time, so I don’t have to walk the mile it takes to get to the kitchen. For the past 3 years, I’ve had one in my room, and for the past three years, it always goes missing, turning up in the dishwasher later.

Now, I know that a missing glass is nothing to fret over or go snooping around to find ecause they know very well where it is. It is not in harms way, and is not in any way lost. So why would mama go sneaking through my room?

I’ve grown up with a mother who used to break the locks on my diaries to read what I had written inside, and then get mad when she’d read that I had written about her being a bitch for sneaking through my room and reading my diary.

I’m sick and tired, after 25 years of parents constantly going into my room and sneaking around!! I know she’s just going in there to grab my glass, but still, I feel violated. Do they not think that I am not going to switch it out if it’s dirty?

Are they searching for something else?like drugs maybe? Drugs that I’m obviously not on besides the occasional asprin or mydol? They aren’t going to find anything else besides that!

I cannot WAIT to move out of here. I’ll be 26 in four months, and yes, while I’m still living with my parents, I abide by their rules. They pay the bills, so I don’t complain about what they do to them, but I still paid rent! I think that’s a fair trade for a bit of privacy.

<3,
xoxo

January 6, 2010. Tags: , , , , , , , . Life (and it's baggage). Leave a comment.

Jen and the No GoodVery Bad Day

Ever have those days where you just want to say fuck it all? Ever have those days where you try to do things and something prevents you from doing just what you were planning on doing? Ever have one of those days where you wish an alien spacecraft can come down and take you away, or a wild woozle would show up just so it can take the confusion of that which has stiffled your freedom of whatever away from your problems and create a whole new bag of beans?!?

That was my day today. Actually fell asleep around 10:30/11 this morning, got woken up by my nephew and daddy banging on the drums outside of my room, managed to fall back asleep about 45 minutes later. Woke up with a clogged right ear, sore throat, sciatic nerve that wouldn’t quit and my knees kept popping themselves out of joint when I’d walk around. I didn’t want to be at work.

Work was going fine, thought it all had passed by my lunch hour when things started to fix themselves; my knees stopped hurting, my ear unclogged, and my sore throat went away though I still felt like crap.

An hour before we left work I noticed my keys went missing. My house keys. I keep them on a caribeaner with my work keys, and they either stay in my pocket, or they hang from the ignition. Go to turn in my keys at the end of the day, and lo and behold, my house keys are no longer on my caribeaner. The people I work with didn’t even offer to help me look, instead, they told me to STOP looking because it was time to go home. During my search, because it’s below 20 and snowing outside, I did two 180′s right after eachother.

Think I’ll help them look for something?nope. I’ll just sigh and say, it’s time to go, stop looking. My fucking house keys!

Well, I call my parents, wake them up, get home and notice a note on my door. My parents want me to wake up early so they can talk to me about a few things tomorrow/today.

I know it’s probably about my bills that I’ve slacked on, so I hop onto my credit report site and I forget my username and password. Hit the button to have it sent to me and it says it cannot find my name on there. Go to sign up for another credit report deal and they’re under construction.

I hate no good very bad days.

<3,
Xoxo!

April 5, 2009. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , . Life (and it's baggage). Leave a comment.

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