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It's. Hot. Out. It's been hotter than usual all summer and we're in the middle of yet another damned heat wave. It's so bad that at this point eighty degrees seems reasonable to me. (I live in Maine.) The only thing saving my area is the breeze; yay for living near the coast. I cannot wait until it's December and thirty degrees out again. At least when you're cold you can do something about it. When you're hot, there is no escape.
Our bastard landlord (how bad is he? Well, he's a Republican politician; 'nuff said, yes?) and his much nicer family are kicking my dad and I out of our home for two weeks on Saturday. I don't know why, especially since they're moving back up for good in October. They can't possibly wait a month and a half? Maine isn't that great. Fortunately, I'll only have to abandon my jobs for one week, because some friends in town can give me a place to stay for the first week. After that, I'm going to my mom's place an hour away. Pluses to staying with Mom: home computer with AIM; satellite dish (we don't even have cable); spending time with baby brother Colby; first floor is underground so it is fifty degrees down there all year around, and upstairs they have A/C. Minuses to staying with Mom: five-year-old stepsister Nicole, whom I love but who is constantly following around one person or another until we all want to strangle her, including the adults in the house; staying with Mom.
Don't get me wrong, I love my mom. We've always had a Rory and Lorelai Gilmore-style relationship (in other words, closer than a lot of mothers and daughters). But for the last year or so that I lived with her, we were more like Lorelai and Emily. If a day passed when we didn't have a fight over something stupid, it was a miracle. There were contributing factors, like her pregnancy, and my increasing apathy toward school and life in general. Problem is, even though she's long since given birth and I've gone back to school so I can graduate, it hasn't really gone away. I like to keep my visits to a few days. I love to visit with her for that long, but much longer then that and we start to pick at each other again. It's a phase, I think, and it will pass once I figure out who I am and learn the difference between being independent and being rude (or something like that, Mom's words, not mine) and once she lets go a little more and conquers her need to control (which she is working on, and I'm proud of her). In the meantime, though, I don't think a week-long stay is the best idea in the world.
But, the pluses do far outweigh the minuses (and I really miss Colby), so I think it will help if I make the best of it. And do a lot of housework. Which is no big chore because last time I was up a few weeks ago, there was nothing to do. Mom (and her husband - there is a husband, he just doesn't register a lot on my personal radar) lives way out in the sticks - I'm talking ten minutes to the nearest business, which is a frigging Rite-Aid. So, cleaning up around the house will kill some time and maybe even keep things smoother between us.
Our bastard landlord (how bad is he? Well, he's a Republican politician; 'nuff said, yes?) and his much nicer family are kicking my dad and I out of our home for two weeks on Saturday. I don't know why, especially since they're moving back up for good in October. They can't possibly wait a month and a half? Maine isn't that great. Fortunately, I'll only have to abandon my jobs for one week, because some friends in town can give me a place to stay for the first week. After that, I'm going to my mom's place an hour away. Pluses to staying with Mom: home computer with AIM; satellite dish (we don't even have cable); spending time with baby brother Colby; first floor is underground so it is fifty degrees down there all year around, and upstairs they have A/C. Minuses to staying with Mom: five-year-old stepsister Nicole, whom I love but who is constantly following around one person or another until we all want to strangle her, including the adults in the house; staying with Mom.
Don't get me wrong, I love my mom. We've always had a Rory and Lorelai Gilmore-style relationship (in other words, closer than a lot of mothers and daughters). But for the last year or so that I lived with her, we were more like Lorelai and Emily. If a day passed when we didn't have a fight over something stupid, it was a miracle. There were contributing factors, like her pregnancy, and my increasing apathy toward school and life in general. Problem is, even though she's long since given birth and I've gone back to school so I can graduate, it hasn't really gone away. I like to keep my visits to a few days. I love to visit with her for that long, but much longer then that and we start to pick at each other again. It's a phase, I think, and it will pass once I figure out who I am and learn the difference between being independent and being rude (or something like that, Mom's words, not mine) and once she lets go a little more and conquers her need to control (which she is working on, and I'm proud of her). In the meantime, though, I don't think a week-long stay is the best idea in the world.
But, the pluses do far outweigh the minuses (and I really miss Colby), so I think it will help if I make the best of it. And do a lot of housework. Which is no big chore because last time I was up a few weeks ago, there was nothing to do. Mom (and her husband - there is a husband, he just doesn't register a lot on my personal radar) lives way out in the sticks - I'm talking ten minutes to the nearest business, which is a frigging Rite-Aid. So, cleaning up around the house will kill some time and maybe even keep things smoother between us.
