My mother has only been living with me again for a few days now and she’s already driving me up the wall. The paranoia has returned; was that really a bottle of Lucozade she was drinking or did it have something else hidden in it? I dunno. I never know. I always suspect her of secret drinking. Or being wasted. The fact that she’s got mild brain damage from all this abuse and is permanently wasted to some degree doesn’t help. Plus the house is already stinking of stale cigarette smoke in the mornings. I can’t think of a worse smell to wake up to. And she wants her best friend to come and stay over Christmas. A woman so dour I had fantasies about shooting her last time I stayed in the same house as her for any length of time.
Thankfully my brother has buggered off to his girlfriends for Xmas. I don’t mind having him here some of the time, he seems to have started to recognise the needs of others, but if he was here over xmas with my mum and her mate I’d probably have gone mad and murdered the lot of them. Which is an outcome I still can’t discount.
They all need to go again after Xmas. I’m not starting another new year in a house filled with chainsmokers, alchoholics, drug addicts and parasites. I was enjoying being on my own. I’d developed routines. No matter how much I fear them I needed them and they were to a large extent good for me. It’s hard to stick to routines when there are others about. Their own habits get in the way. I didn’t get my glass of red wine and a few chapters of a novel in the bath last night, and I slept like shit because of it.
I don’t want to be an ogre anymore but I need to look after myself now and if that means being mean to people and telling them to fuck off when needed then I should and I shouldn’t feel bad about it.
I’ve been too much of a people-pleaser for my own good and my health has suffered. I can’t afford it anymore.
In other news the Man Lee has really gone down the shitter. The last few meals I’ve had from them were disappointing, the delivery service is woeful and they are the only chinese takeaway that hasn’t offered me a complimentary 2006 calendar.
Not good enough. I shall order from Maxims in future. Their delivery driver reminds me of John Candy in Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Always a bonus. Especially when the competitions delivery drivers all seem to be local paramilitaries earning extra pocket money.