A post in which I am ready for the weekend*

The first call I received today was from by brother-in-law Paul.  He could tell by the tone of my voice that I had already heart about Cindy calling the police on Eve.  Since he is a loyal husband, he tried to sell me whatever bullshit was on offer. 

1. Eve had knocked on the door until Brenden was traumatized and crying (Response: "Really Paul?  How old is he now - 12?!  And he's crying because his grandmother was at the door?")

2. Eve had knocked at the door until the dog peed in the floor.  (Response: "That's a pretty low bar to clear - all your dogs are crazy.")  (They really all are.)

Neither one of these things really justifies calling the police on your own freakin' mother.  At which point I got:

3. Cindy was afraid, and in a panic.  (Response:  "Of what?  Eve is in her 60s.  She can barely walk!  She's going to hurt Cindy or Brenden, really?")

4. Cindy didn't know who was at the door.  (Response:  "She couldn't look out a peep hole?  She couldn't look out a window?  You just call the cops whenever someone knocks on your door?") 
4a. Well she had looked out a window, and there was a strange car out front - a white Mercedes that she didn't know.  ( Response: " And yes, Paul, the thugs always drive a Mercedes to your house to kill you.")

Which brought us to the next one:

5.  There had been a murder/suicide in their neighborhood several weeks ago, and they had been really cautious about opening the door since then.  (and yet they have no peephole)  (Response: "OK, a murder/suicide is generally an internal thing, one. And two, I am quite sure I live in a worse neighborhood than you do, and yet when someone knocks on my door, I would still find out who was there before I called the cops.")

And of course it was all just that - bullshit.  I called shenanigans (which to me sounds nicer than calling someone a fucking liar) on the whole rationale.  The bottom line is that she just can't be bothered to deal with her own mother.  Now Eve can be annoying, no doubt and no argument from me there.  But I know just a little bit about forgiving your parents for things they have done.  You could certainly argue that my mother has done things to me that make anything Eve has done pale by comparison.  And yet I cannot picture a scenario in which I would call the police to come to my house and charge her with trespassing.  I also told Paul I was tired of cleaning up Cindy's shit, just because I am the only kid left around to do it.  She needs to grow a pair and clean up her own mess. 

But she won't.  It's the same thing as her years-feud with BB over something BB said to her (it was too horrible to repeat, I was told) while her son Truman (aka sorry worthless Uncle Humpy) was in the hospital.  We all thought he was going to die.  So I think she could have cut BB a little bit of slack there, but no dice.  Cindy let BB lay there and die in hospice, years later, without ever coming to see her.  That's pretty freakin' cold.  Like not calling or even sending a freakin' card when your brother could be dying of cancer. 

Needless to say, these reflections did not put me in a congenial frame of mind.  I did get some work done today (despite reporting problems, of course, since it was month/quarter end and the worst possible time for things to screw up), and got the first of the presentations turned in.  It was the time-sensitive one. 

But after work I just felt vaguely yucky and really not looking forward to my birthday.  Eve had sent me some text messages and we had made plans to have brunch downtown on Sunday for my birthday.  But I knew that brunch on Sunday would be nothing but a re-cap of the whole latest Cindy fiasco, and that Eve would probably cry through most of the meal to boot.  Happy freakin' birthday to me right? 

I thought about taking Rhondee to dinner for dramatic renewal of purpose, but really just felt crabby.  I wanted to go home and grump.  Plus I was oddly tired.  So I just went home.  I fell into the internet vortex for a while, and had a buddy come over, but that didn't go very well either.

When he left I realized I hadn't eaten any dinner.  I didn't really want anything, but I knew I needed to eat something so I could sleep through the night.  I haven't been sleeping well lately.  So I made myself a veggie burger, some popcorn with real butter on it, and then had a little ice cream cup for dessert (I love those little single serving size ones).  I felt a little better, and thought that at least tomorrow night would be fun.