Its Sunday. Its lunchtime. You will notice that I am posting on my blog and NOT sitting down to a birthday lunch with my fucked up family.
I am so tired that even if I wanted to go, it would have been a bad idea.
On Thursday, Monkey Boy and I did the expected thing and popped in to see my parents on the way home from our grocery shopping expedition and introduce Spudly to them. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Spudly, the little darling, decided to start screaming as soon as we pulled up outside, so obviously we couldnt stay long. Gotta love that boy.
Really, I had absolutely nothing to say. Well, nothing that I havent already said before in response to my mother's inane drivelling about dad's memory being "a bit of a problem" and the fact that she cancelled his last doctors appointment and how its so hard for her to get around with the walking frame and she keeps hurting herself trying to do the vacuuming, blah blah blah. Monkey Boy and I just looked at each other.
Now, given the previous post, you might have some idea of how thrilled I was when my mother said to Spudly upon his screaming "isnt she feeding you?"
You couldnt get me out of there quick enough.
Neither Monkey Boy nor I said anythign about the visit when we left. Some time after we got home he said "are you impressed I havent made any comments about your retarded mother?" Yes. Yes I was. I was also impressed with myself that I had no need to vent upon leaving. We both knew what the other was thinking.
Something along the lines of "let's never do that again."