This is a rant about parents, brought to you by angsty teenager.
Okay the morning begins with me leaving to water my mom's boss's flowers. My mother told me she was going to go with me, because she thought they were dead. So I ask, "are you ready?"
"Yeah, I decided not to go."
I stand their in confusion and frustration, because this is her boss, not mine, and she will pay the consequences for dead flowers. So she could at least pretend to care. She asks "what's wrong?"
So she throws a fucking temper tantrum getting off the couch, slamming the remote down, stomping to the door. I shut the door in her face and drive away.
I get five minutes down the road when she tells me to come home. I get home and she says "you need to clean up your mess in the kitchen." I look around and there is one 4 oz. empty glass I used for water with my medicine, and one wadded up paper towel. I'm sorry, but you really called me home for this? Really?
Later while I'm out she texts and asks me to pick up batteries. I text her back and ask if she can find a pizza place that's open. No response. I get home and she doesn't say a word. Just stares at me, almost like she's looking through me. I go to my room and get a text from her that says "I didn't see this til just now." It's been four hours. This woman checks her phone every five minutes at dinner. She is full of shit.
So I'm baking and she says, "make sure you clean up the kitchen when you're done." Like I do every fucking time and you never show the slightest appreciation. But I clean up and, of course, she doesn't say anything about it other than "make sure you put those dishes up after they dry." K.
After dinner I try to bake some more, even let her taste some stuff. I clean up the dishes and have to stop baking because I've had an HS outbreak and can barely walk. I say, "I'm going to stop baking because I've had an HS outbreak and can barely walk."
Five minutes later, she knocks on the door and says, "You need to finish cleaning up the stuff from dinner." Awkward stare because she knows I'm thinking about how I just told her about my fucking swollen skin pockets. She ignores it.
I hobble into the kitchen and see one. fucking. bowl. REALLY YOU COULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN THIS ONE. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM. So I clean it up and hobble back to my room. I hear them there fireworks. I leave my room, and coating the hallway are FOLDED TOWELS, shoes, bags, clothes, etc.
I say, "was that really necessary?"
"Was it really necessary to leave your stuff all over the house?"
Somebody needs to take their medication again, because she is in MEGA BITCH MODE especially for not having gone to work today. I mean, damn.
