About sixteen years ago, I met him for the first time. My trainwreck sibling brought home this adorable puppy he had no business adopting because he had not one thing in his life that wasn’t a mess. I was furious at my sibling – he didn’t even take care of himself, how could he drag
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December 12, 2007
That’s IT. This sweater is the last sweater whose festooning with bitty bits of detergent crumbs I will tolerate. Every single time I have a load of laundry containing either black clothing or knits, one item comes out of the washer covered in white speckles. And the rotten thing of it is, multiple items go in, and only one random victim of detergent dandruff comes out.
Should I be using liquid detergents instead? I don’t have so much clothing that I can separate lights and darks, AND by material. If so, I’d better start looking for good deals because detergents are rather pricey.
December 11, 2007
Credit: Dolores Neilson
says the Sultan of Second Chances.
Got a call from BroDucky the other day. He’s getting a real job, he says. At least, his girlfriend has given him a whole list of leads. He’s going to get a real job, and he’s been making do borrowing transportation and getting rides, but he really wants to make things right with the car situation because he doesn’t feel right borrowing other people’s cars, etc.
He wants to know if there’s anything he can do to get a car back. He wants to know if I’m willing to work with him because he wants to pay me back, but he needs to get a job for that to happen. He needs to be able to get to the job, though, and for that, he needs a car. So, how about it, sis? But he totally understands, says he, if I’m not willing to let him have a car back.
As if that’s my fault that he can’t be responsible enough to pay for the car and insurance, and that it’s my call, whether or not he should get the car back.
Ok, it is my call. After all, I’ve got the keys, I’ve got the insurance paperwork, and I’m paying the bills. So it’s my call. But I HATE his manipulations that are juuuust so “reasonable” and so mild. “It’s up to you.” “I want to do the right thing.” And so on. He makes it hard to just verbally shut him down because I so desperately want him to get on the right path and do the right thing. And incidentally, pay me back the thousands of dollars he owes me. The worst part is that I’m fairly certain he doesn’t even see it like a manipulation. This is him “trying” and “making up for all the bad times.” Man, this is supposed to be improvement?? At least he’s not living under my roof anymore.
But I told him to get a real paying job first. Get a job with a salary or a living wage and secure it. Don’t bring me leads, don’t bring me connections. I want a secured job, and a start date and an actual first day, a paystub for the love of Jim, EV-ER-Y-THING. Get that done, and then come talk to me.
At the end of the day, I have to remember that he comes to me when he wants something. That I’m only one of many options, and that I’m only the easiest option if I slip up and allow him to use me. I have to stay strong and remember that he could be an advertising exec, he’s so smooth, and even after 25 years of co-existing, it’s too easy for me to buy into his “earnest” act. Because if he really wanted to make things right, he’d get the job, work his butt off, save the money and pay me back. And he’d find a way to make it happen. It’s not my job to make this work for him, it’s not my job to make it possible for him to work. It’s HIS job, HIS life, and HIS responsibility.
I tell Pa and MaDucky that all the time. I cannot afford to slip and let him take advantage of me, too. Literally, I cannot afford to make another mistake.
Big brothers aren’t supposed to be this way. They’re supposed to be warm, supportive and comforting. Safe havens! I should be able to go to him for moral support, not turning away from him in exasperation and despair. Oh, how I wish for the strength and wisdom to see this through to the end.
So, what to do from here? Assuming he manages to land a job, and actually starts working, I have absolutely no way of assuring that he continues to work once he gets the car. So then what? He has, to be fair, managed to do a couple things in good faith, like returning the car after royally angering me by taking it in the first place. Handed over the keys, as promised. But other than that? He’s not paid a dime since July.
I suppose I could require him to pay back all the back payments and pay a month in advance for all payments from now on. It’s not likely that he’ll have that kind of money wherever he works. But is that a reasonable requirement?
Suggestions would be appreciated. My brain is drained.
I came home from work, mentally exhausted and still sick yesterday, to find my mom looking like a pufferfish. No, she hadn’t eaten one, she just looked like one. Apparently she was having some crazy allergic reaction to some hair dye or some such thing and had been swelling up and itching all day.
*shaking head*
You’d THINK they’d tell me earlier in the day. No, of course not, she just suffered all day and was wild with discomfort and actual pain by the time I got home.
$5 worth of diphenhydramine and three hours later, she was sleepy and no longer itching like mad. Diphenhydramine was what we used to give at the clinic, in injection form, to doggies with beestings and other random allergic reactions. The doggies would come in, fat-faced and miserable, and get a couple of shots to relieve the swelling and itchiness. It’s Benadryl, basically. I just didn’t bother to pay double the money for brand name Benadryl because the store brand stuff is exactly the same.
There’s not much you can do with that sort of allergic reaction if you don’t know what caused it, but I sent her and Pa off to the emergency room anyway in case there was something else wrong.
It turns out that she’d gotten an infection from scratching, so they have to pick up a prescription for an antibiotic today.
Lessons for the day:
If you’re swelling up, itchy and can’t think of any reason why, I don’t necessarily recommend self-medicating, but DON’T WAIT to get some help!!
If she’d told me earlier, we would have tried the diphenhydramine in the morning, she wouldn’t have been so miserable all day, and we would have saved the money on antibiotics as well as several hours in the emergency room in the middle of the night.
Selfish as it may sound: I honestly cannot take any more drama. Especially any more hospital or health related drama. Please take care of yourselves, everyone, and we can return to our regularly scheduled, drama-free, finance-oriented postings. It’s for the greater good, really.
December 10, 2007
or was it Easy Spirit? (I think that’s a shoe, actually.) Did they ever sell it in stores, or was that some ’80s by-mail phenomenon?
I ask because amid the hustle this weekend, my sleepover guest had an unexpected errand: a stop at Target for some deodorant.
While we browsed the aisles, I was struck by the selection of deodorants and how many of them were more than $3 per stick! Prices ranged from $2.89 up to a whopping $7! Can you believe that? Whatever happened to the cheap deodorant that teenagers used back in the day?
Honestly, of all the things to spend our hard-earned money on, I can’t believe that deodorant can be such a large expense.
(I picked up a 97 cent sample of Ban for my purse just in case, since I was there. I’m a sucker for trying new scents, even if I’m so congested I can’t actually smell right now.)
December 7, 2007
I shall sally forth to contend with the all day private family memorial services, hoping that I don’t infect anyone else with my cold . I get the impression from BoyDucky’s harassed sounding phone calls that this moment of peace I have with you, blogger family, is the last bit of quiet I’ll be having for the rest of the day.
Wish me luck!
December 6, 2007
Seriously. The value of regular, good rest is just underrated.
In advance of the holiday season, I’d like to take this chance to remind everyone to be careful amidst all the holidaying that I’m sure is beginning (or has already begun). Please be safe!
I’d like to blog about end-of-life preparedness soon, but I’m going to need to get some rest, all these funerals attended, and some more rest before I can get to that.
December 4, 2007
As we search for photos of A, I realize that I have so few photos. Not just of him, but of the past several years. At some point I stopped valuing the memories as much because I didn’t want to spend the money on a camera. I always thought it wasn’t a big deal; someone would take pictures, probably, and I could look at theirs.
Over the weekend, A’s college friends came by with a beautiful photo album they’d made containing photos from the last few years, from his trips to other countries and most recently to Hawaii, and it made me so wistful.
How I wish I’d sprung for a camera years ago and continued my photographing frenzy from high school and our first year of college. During college, it was a big joke among my crowd that everyone always had a camera, and with eight to ten photographers, I assumed we’d have duplicates of every picture.
Eventually, the picture taking dwindled in the face of greater distances, fewer gatherings, and seemingly less intense comradery. It took this tragedy to remind me that there are times I’d regret not spending money.
I didn’t need a digital SLR, but a simple point and shoot would have preserved so many of our experiences and I wouldn’t have to rely just on fond reminiscences.
