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So, J's parents came up today and after working at the store I just did NOT want to walk into a crowded house, sit down to dinner with J, his kids and his parents and pretend I give a fuck about what they're talking about, all the while screaming inside that I just want to be in my room, with the door shut and my candle lit.
So instead of doing that, I drove. I got in my car and burned off about half a tank of gas just driving.
It was bliss.
Except for the other assholes on the road. (Yes, I include myself among their number; I'm honest, not fucking delusional.)
Came home around 10ish and his mom was STILL doing laundry in the laundry room. The laundry room is adjacent to my bathroom, so to get to it you have to come through my room. And EVERY TIME J's mom comes down, she does laundry. I don't know where she finds it since J's pretty good about washing. I have the sneaking suspicious that she is actually rewashing all of their clothes.
I wish she would just come down and hang out with her kid and her grandkids and stay the hell out of the laundry room and, by extension, my fucking room.
Not that she's nosy or bad or anything, it's just . . . when I come home I want to vanish into my room, close the door and decompress. And I can't do that with J's mom here, doing 10,000 loads of clean laundry.
I feel like a dick complaining about this, but there it is. And no, I'm not gonna talk to J about it because it feels petty and stupid and I've been kind of a crabby cunt for the last couple of weeks anyway.
So instead of doing that, I drove. I got in my car and burned off about half a tank of gas just driving.
It was bliss.
Except for the other assholes on the road. (Yes, I include myself among their number; I'm honest, not fucking delusional.)
Came home around 10ish and his mom was STILL doing laundry in the laundry room. The laundry room is adjacent to my bathroom, so to get to it you have to come through my room. And EVERY TIME J's mom comes down, she does laundry. I don't know where she finds it since J's pretty good about washing. I have the sneaking suspicious that she is actually rewashing all of their clothes.
I wish she would just come down and hang out with her kid and her grandkids and stay the hell out of the laundry room and, by extension, my fucking room.
Not that she's nosy or bad or anything, it's just . . . when I come home I want to vanish into my room, close the door and decompress. And I can't do that with J's mom here, doing 10,000 loads of clean laundry.
I feel like a dick complaining about this, but there it is. And no, I'm not gonna talk to J about it because it feels petty and stupid and I've been kind of a crabby cunt for the last couple of weeks anyway.
