Less Than

Toxic people are those who make you feel "less than". For me, that includes (especially) people who think I'm an idiot. Yes, it's entirely possible to have a high IQ and be ditzy at times or scatterbrained. On the doses of anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and other meds I take daily, it's a wonder I can function at all. Know what? Before the meds, I was very bright and sometimes scatterbrained. There are two ways of looking at that: You can say I'm clueless or you can say I wake up to a new world most days. I prefer the latter, although the former is probably more accurate.

I rode with George to Zoey Zieber's first birthday party today. It was out of Bozrah. GPS kept changing its mind, but that was my fault. I couldn't see my phone's screen very well, even with sunglasses, and that was my fault, too. I was planning to pick up a present and card on the way, and was told I'm stupid and disorganized and "last-minute Laurie". I have never in my life wanted so very badly to slap the living crap out of a person as I did him.On the way home from the party, he took a wrong turn and corrected it, and I didn't say a thing. If I had been him, I'd have called him an idiot, a pompous jackass, and a few things that aren't to be said in polite society, but I didn't, because it would put me down on his level. He is a supercilious clod.

We were talking about my frustration at having moved to Ledyard with the verbal promise of a bedroom, a living room (the bedroom across the hall from mine), and my own bath. That has shrunk to being only my bedroom and bathroom. That would be hard enough if I were in college, but at almost 51, it's horrible. Pretty soon I'm going to be restricted to just my closet at the rate it's going.

A couple of months ago I was asked to reorganize the lower kitchen cabinets. I spent several hours over a couple of days doing just that, figuring out what would make the most sense - mixing bowls and plastic storage near the work island AND the sink AND the dishwasher, pans across from the cook top, rarely-used items at the far end of kitchen so they'd be out of harm's way but fairly accessible. Suddenly, all my Tupperware is in the pantry! In another room about 20' away from the sink. Literally. There is nothing efficient about that.

I was encouraged to bring things of mine to add to what is already in the house, so I'd feel it's my home, too. That was a joke. Perhaps I'll next be invited to decorate the (unfinished) basement. Anything I've brought in has pretty much been stashed someplace hidden away. Screw it.

If a pet potties in the floor, you can guarantee it's MY pet, even if nobody saw it happen. I KNOW when my pets are locked in my room with me (most of the time 24/7), they cannot possibly be the ones pottying in the kitchen floor or outside my bedroom door.

I'm supposed to have ONE shelf in the refrigerator. I don't even have that much.

My doctor has said if I move back into George's house, it'll kill me, the way living with my mother killed my dad at age 53. Being at Kelly's initially brought down my blood pressure, but I'm now at the point where no matter what I do, I'm going to get corrected because it's not done her way, and all my stuff is crammed into one bedroom. Last night I actually got out my Happy Bunny sign that says "Please knock, then go screw yourself" and put it on my door, along with a note saying that 'The complaint department is closed for the weekend."

Kelly wanted me to feel this is my home, too. How in the hell can it when everything I do has to be undone or isn't adequate? I'm PAYING to get to clean this house. The rent is almost impossibly high anyway, but being expected to take on most of the household chores during the week is adding insult to injury.

 I would LOVE to be in a committed relationship with an amazing man who isn't irritated when I laugh, who finds joy in my joy, who wants to hear what I think, who wants to hold me, and who couldn't imagine life without me - you know, the kind who doesn't exist. Those men exist for many other women. Kelly's divorcing husband #5 and working on #6 (who, by the way, is a GREAT guy). She, like so many other women, is used to being pleased, not to pleasing. And guess what? She gets what she wants. So much for catching more flies with honey than with vinegar.

Lastly, monogamy does not mean making someone your "bitch". It means valuing them enough that you don't want to share them. Expecting that is NOT unreasonable.

Rant over.