Returning Ramble

I finally have internet again. Hooray!

The past few months have been hectic and a bit (OMG-OMG-OMG) stressful. I had to move back in with the maternal unit. She hasn’t been doing so well on her own (Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!), and let’s face it, living with her (though she drives me nuts – more nuts) saves me money. That said, it’s been a tough adjustment. I’m very independent, for one thing, and mom is very nosy and clingy (which I hate). The two don’t mix, but I’m very slowly bringing her around to the fact that I’m not twelve anymore (for the most part). The first time I stayed out all night after moving in with her, she called the police. That’s right. She reported me as a missing person. And this was AFTER I told her I wouldn’t be home. It’s been an uphill battle, but I’m winning. Losing is for losers!

Before I could move in with the mumster, she (meaning, mostly me) had to clean out the bottom of her house (it’s a tri-level), which consists of a bedroom, bathroom, and large family room. I have never seen so much useless junk in my life… and she wouldn’t let me throw ANY of that shit away! It’s all in the garage now, which means neither of us can park our cars inside. I’ve even tried to sneak some of it to the trash, but she KNOWS. She finds it and brings it back. How does she do that?! And, more importantly, WHY does she do that? I have come to the conclusion that she’s the reason I’m such a neat-freak now. The woman could make a fortune at a flea market.

In other news – and this will be TMI, but who cares – I think I’m perimenopausal. The doctor gave me hormone pills to make my period stop, but it’s not working. I’m going on day 15 so you can imagine how pale, cranky, and emotional I’ve been. It’s a blast when the weepies hit me at work. My boss and his boss are both old codgers, so when the waterworks start, they turn red, grunt like cavemen, and hit the door. Of course, as soon as they’re gone the crying stops, which should tell them something. Asshats.

Woohoo! Happy days and good times, people! I’m living with my mom, and goin’ through the CHANGE!

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2 Responses to Returning Ramble

  1. cynical says:

    Oh, grrrrrl. I’m perimenopausal, too, and it makes me channel my inner sistah. If I had to live with my mother, too, there could be permanent damage. You are a good egg, missy, and I hope this all works out.

  2. I hope so, too. I haven’t committed any homicides yet, but my hormones aren’t yet done screwing with me. At least mom will bail me out. Er, I hope.

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