spigots or caudrens
114 members have voted
Wow, time is sneaking away from me this morning, so no song for you. We're having pleasant conversation, sort of. I keep finding ways to jack my mother's stress levels up, such as discussing closing my American bank accounts:
And, y'know, the fact that she accused me of heroin chic when I was 14, and I thought she was accusing me of using needle drugs. I kind of stayed in one fuck of a depressive state for a good year+ because of that. She retorted that she might've said it twice, but how was saying it even once appropriate? Silly woman. *snorts* I won't even get into yesterday's discussion where she avoided answering why she never got me diagnosed for anything, outside of mentioning that her oh-so-supposedly valid excuse was, 'Your brother was worse.' Good job... how is that legit?
Anyways, I think they're going to go into town today, and we're going to go make with the working. Working is good; it puts food on the table. Plus, I'm making real progress on getting things sorted to blast through pre-Christmas, so it's a good feeling.