Sleep When UR Dead

A long time ago I made a rule that I’d never loan money to a family member and EVER expect it back. At the time, I was childless, independent and very generous.

I’m none of those things any more.

So, last week when my mother said, “Can I borrow $300?” I said, only if you promise to pay me back by July 1 so that I can pay the mortgage and my student loan. Remember, college? That you didn’t help pay for nor provide me with a place to live during? Actually, a year ago you offered to pay on my loans, but you’ve apparently forgotten that.

Anyhooo….I loaned you the money because you said you’d pay it back as soon as you got paid Friday. Later in the week it was, ‘I can give you the regular monthly amount but only $150 of the extra money I borrowed.” I repeated the need for mortgage money and you said you’d do your best.

I checked my account on Sunday and realized that you’d only put in the regular monthly amount. I asked later that day, after you suggested we go out for dinner, if you’d made the deposit yet. You immediately admited to the regular monthly amount and I asked abou the extra.

You raised your voice, “

“ESME! I’m broke!”

In my head I said, so am I, but I couldn’t mouth the words properly. I’ve never had a problem with you giving me back money. Little things, yes, but I never tracked them. This was substantial and important.

“When do you think you can pay me back?”

“As soon as I can”

“Well I need it for the mortgage due July 1, and I told you that when I gave it to you”

“My dog has bankrupted me.”

No shit sherlock. That’s why we kept telling you to save up…to put it off…Let’s not talk about the additional housework she’s created (the carpets are FILTHY) and the papertowels that seem to dissapear.

“Well you knew that going in.”

 I was so livid that I couldn’t speak.

That’s the last straw. Your dog messes things up, makes the house smell, eats my cat’s food, and generally makes you too tired to do any of the chores you promised you’d help with around the house. you won’t vacuum until the house is spotless (you can’t possibly bend over) then at dinner you talk about what I’m eating and actually insist that you’re 230 pounds and live on less than 1200 calories a day.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? What kind of dream world have I created for you to live on?

Jesus, woman.

But I bit my tongue and went out to dinner anyway. I needed to get out of the house because Bubba was there with the boys. It’s his weekend but there were a string of weekend events in my town, so I told them to stay. Having Bubba breathe the same air (that is sit on my couch when there is so much he should be doing) is like rampant nails on a chalkboard. I could have gone for a bike ride with Gman and Maven, but I just wasn’t feelin’ it. I bet they had a good time, though.

And I hate myself for letting his presence affect me, so I hide in my bedroom. Which is how EVERYONE wants to spend their free time, right?

So I drug you from store to store, looking for stuff I had no intention of buying. I asked you about her work plans for the week so we could coordinate doggy and child care. I caught you up on things with DC.

At last, we arrived home and you mentioned that Hannah (the dog) would have a long day tomorrow because you had an early doctor’s appointment.

Dumbass…I tried to have that conversation with you and you swore there was nothing unusual with your schedule this week. Even when I make the effort, you just suck the life right out of me.

So, I quit being your daughter. I don’t even like being your room mate. Seriously.

I divorce you. I divorce you. I divorce you. You thoughtless self-centered hog of a woman.