(no subject)
Aug. 8th, 2003 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zana16If I'd remembered why I moved out of my parents' home in the first place, I wouldn't have signed up for a month at home with all four of us. My dad is being driven nuts by my brother, my stepmother doesn't want to speak to my brother but she has progressed in the past few years to at least acknowledging his existence and deigning to say a few words ("Clean up" and "Don't eat so much" being the essence of most of them), my dad isn't getting the paper he's presenting at Harvard in a month done, and I managed to kill the second car dead yesterday.
Killed the damn thing dead. Dead dead. Fried the engine. It was overheating so I put water in what I thought was the water thing, only it turned out to be the overflow, and the engine is fried. The engine was a whole nine days old since my grandparents fried it exactly the same way last month. My dad is not happy. But we called up the local Rent-A-Wreck and I am now driving a really tiny bright teal car with numerous dings and dents and an air conditioner that barely works, but it's a car. Thank God. It means I can get away from this nuthouse. In the 102-degree heat, but away.
Bridgitte escaped again today and was excitedly waiting in the driveway when I got home after seeing American Wedding. There was a thunderstorm complete with tornado warning about an hour into it, and the power went out. Movie theaters are eerily dark when there's no power for the "exit" sign.
In other news, I am a bum. Or would like to be. My dad has these grand ideas of me cleaning out the attic (for God's sake, they just moved in!) and writing exercises for his statistics textbook. This morning he said I should plan out my days with x amount of cleaning, x amount of down time, and x amount of helping my brother get ready to go off to college next week. I made some sort of comment about how he gets so upset every time someone messes up his schedule, so I might as well not have one and not get upset. He read me the "I'm 54 and don't have so many years left to still change the world" lecture. Then I had a doctor's appointment where she wanted to do a gynecological exam and I really didn't want her to do one. That was an interesting scenario. She kept insisting that I needed another pap smear, but I know I'll have one at college when I go in to get my birth control, and there is no way in hell I am going to let metal tongs up there more than once a year. *shudder*
Killed the damn thing dead. Dead dead. Fried the engine. It was overheating so I put water in what I thought was the water thing, only it turned out to be the overflow, and the engine is fried. The engine was a whole nine days old since my grandparents fried it exactly the same way last month. My dad is not happy. But we called up the local Rent-A-Wreck and I am now driving a really tiny bright teal car with numerous dings and dents and an air conditioner that barely works, but it's a car. Thank God. It means I can get away from this nuthouse. In the 102-degree heat, but away.
Bridgitte escaped again today and was excitedly waiting in the driveway when I got home after seeing American Wedding. There was a thunderstorm complete with tornado warning about an hour into it, and the power went out. Movie theaters are eerily dark when there's no power for the "exit" sign.
In other news, I am a bum. Or would like to be. My dad has these grand ideas of me cleaning out the attic (for God's sake, they just moved in!) and writing exercises for his statistics textbook. This morning he said I should plan out my days with x amount of cleaning, x amount of down time, and x amount of helping my brother get ready to go off to college next week. I made some sort of comment about how he gets so upset every time someone messes up his schedule, so I might as well not have one and not get upset. He read me the "I'm 54 and don't have so many years left to still change the world" lecture. Then I had a doctor's appointment where she wanted to do a gynecological exam and I really didn't want her to do one. That was an interesting scenario. She kept insisting that I needed another pap smear, but I know I'll have one at college when I go in to get my birth control, and there is no way in hell I am going to let metal tongs up there more than once a year. *shudder*