My mother

Must be the most fucking infuriating woman on the planet! She is one of those Jekyll and Hyde characters, you never know who your going to meet or what insignificant word or thing you do will bring havoc reigning down around you.

I made the mistake this morning, when dealing with a form, of stating when she asked me that I didn't remember the name of the doctor/practice I was registered with in England (it was maybe 2 years ago and one visit!) because as the form is to register with a local practice here, they wanted the information. Poor deluded me didn't realise this would unleash 'the beast' with immediate effect resulting in overboard and unwarranted ranting and raving of incredible porportion with her flying around the house like a demented dervish screaming about how sick she was of the stupidy and lack of anyone knowing anything yadda yadda. We must remember that this woman is the center of the universe, resents the shit out of doing anything that doesn't concern her, knows everything and oh yeah, is always right. I decided against going anywhere with her as we were due to bring the form in and do a few other bits and pieces and went to the sanctuary of my little garage room.

On to later, I decided to go in and grab something to eat and decided maybe I should make an effort and stayed in the living room. Then my father came home, and that's all the man had to do. Seems We're all out to tramp the poor woman who oh my! has to cook, work and all those awfull, horrid things she is obviously much too good for. No-one can do anything right, and no-one understands her.

Think I've been harsh or scathing? This is the scaled down, calmer version of what might have been here when I was really angry about it. I just really needed to say it. I can hear cries of 'move' Well, I can't afford it now and quite frankly my feet are likely to never step on the property ladder and as my space is 'outside' of the house so to speak I can just up and walk out and I do. I simply just want to walk into the house without having to check if my very breathing is acceptable. That, and for her to understand that when she is quite fine a few hours later and I'm still seething with rage I'm allowed to be, that the hurt and frustration doesn't end on my side because she's a happy bunny now.

Boy, such seemingly teenage angst and parental rebellion from a 32 year old, gotta laugh...