The time has come, the walrus said…

Home from H’s. *rolls eyes* Her husband was s’posed to go to NC for a few days, while I was there, and blahdiblahdiblah. But that ended up not happening. But I still babysat a little and H got some stuff done.

However. I didn’t sleep well, at all. And also didn’t keep up with my meds, at all. And the drive, which is usually calming and relaxing, was anything but, since my car is a BIG PIECE OF SHIT. *sigh* It hasn’t blown up yet, but it’s trying. It’s overheating and H’s father in law, whom she consulted over the phone, thinks it’s more to do with the thermostat than with the oil leak. (Keeping in mind, of course, that I JUST had the thermostat FIXED in March. !%#$$*!%%) H wanted to take it somewhere and have it fixed for me, but that didn’t work out. Not that I would’ve totally minded and I certainly am not in the position to object. But. She just. Tries to buy stuff for me constantly and seems to get upset when she *can’t* buy stuff for me. Like, we went to the mall cuz she needed clothes for work and I could use a new pair of jeans and dress pants. So. After a while, I *finally* found a pair of dress pants that didn’t make me stop breathing due to the price, and I let her buy me those. I didn’t find any jeans tho. One, cuz the style is not what I necessarily like – I would like to buy a pair of jeans that looks NEW, not a pair that looks as if it’s been drug thru the mud under a pickup truck- but two, cuz the price is OUTRAGEOUS. Ok. Yes. I grew up in hand-me downs, second hand clothes from siblings, garage sales, flea markets, etc. I still have several of the jeans that I was wearing in high school, that cost all of $20, max. And to me, that’s expensive for a pair of jeans. I have bought jeans at wally world, but even $24 is pricey to me. I let H buy me a few pair of GAP jeans last year- they were at the outlet mall AND on sale. And STILL too expensive for my liking, but she insisted, so I let her.

But damn, I REFUSE to pay sixty dollars for a frigging pair of JEANS. I dunno why. It just. blah. They’re clothes for gawd’s sake. They’re not even edible. :op

So. I didn’t find any suitable jeans. And H was upset cuz she’s like “you didn’t even get ANYthing.” I held up the bag with my dress pants in it. “Oh. Big deal. ONE pair of pants! Geeez…” *sigh*

And then she was yelling at me about my car, etc and was like “Why don’t you just ask ME if you need help….” Uhm. Maybe because ALL of our siblings AND our parents ask her??? Maybe because her husband is unemployed (attempting, for the last 2 or 3 years??, to start his own business…which, for the last year has been “almost ready to launch…”). Maybe because they JUST moved to a new house and haven’t yet SOLD the old one….Maybe cuz I’d like to, ya know, not ask her for money that I know she can’t really afford to shell out. *shrugs*

Speaking of Elmer. Apparently Christopher moved out and moved in with his girlfriend. And apparently Elmer is saying Chris hasn’t paid for anything but cable in years and Chris is saying he’s paid half of everything every month. Of course, H gets in the middle of this. She send Elmer money every month because one of her loans is being deducted from his SSI every month and such. She feels sorry for him. I feel sorry that I ignore how sorry I feel for him. Cuz. Now he’s just. Sitting alone in an apartment doing nothing but watching tv probably.

I can’t fix it. He’s a lonely old man with no friends to speak of. He refuses to go home to live at his mothers house, even tho she offered the whole thing to him- his WHOLE family still lives in that area. He knows people there. He wouldn’t be alone there…..but he won’t. What the fuck keeps him in the stupid apartment where he is??? It’s not like either of my parents actually had friends in the area. He didn’t even WORK there, he worked an hour away.

I can’t fix it. And I can’t miraculously jump back in to his life and pretend that I love him cuz I don’t know if I do. I don’t really know at ALL how I feel about/for him. And it’s driving me fucking insane.

I just want to not care. But i’m not built like that. I do care, even if I hide it. Even if I ignore it. It’s still there.

I just can’t breathe anymore. I just don’t want to.

This is Z’s first dip in the pool. He’s still beautiful, and still sweet. And I taught or made him start holding his own bottle. He is 10 months old afterall, and perfectly capable. He’ll hold it for me when I feed him, but not when H or Shawn try to feed him. *rolls eyes*