Sick of it ALL

I am so sick of life. My life actually. I'm sure I'd be happy with someone elses at this point.

I hate crying because it just makes the vertigo worse. But here I am, crying.

And it all started with a simple phone call. My ass of a brother.

Calls to say Happy Father's Day - which makes him golden even though he forgot last year. Dad's all aflutter over it and David bought a big umbrella for the fish pond.

It's a water feature, not a pond. It has 4 gold fish in it, 4 plants - 3 of which I bought, and so much algae it's irridescent. I said I'd keep trying to get the water clear without hurting the fish until July 1 and then all bets are off. Well, I'm not trying anymore. I've told Dad at least a dozen times we needed more plants to cover the surface of thw ater 50-70%. Well, that'll interfere with his fish watching. But, so does the algae so I'm not sure what the problem is.

So, all we - meaning *I* - will have to do is sink a pipe in the ground to put this big umbrella in and it'll shade the pond. What is it about guys dying to be trailer trash? Never mind that there's a flower bed around it that could look good if it didn't have a big umbrella in the middle of it.

And then there's the quilt shop. Mom bought a prefab shed and is buying a long-arm quilter. I'm doing everything in my power to keep that fucking thing as simple and as inexpensive - both now and when in operation - as I possibly can. I have been dizzier this past week than I have been in a YEAR.

My brother waltzes into the picture and professes an oil stove to be the best heating option for out there. Mom just waits with baited breath for his pearls of wisdom. Never mind I've done all the research and am thinking a pellet stove will be far easier AND cleaner to use. David wants to buy a used oil furnace from a mobile home. Oh - I am just tickled senseless over that notion. That alone is a deal breaker. I will not do anymore work on it, I will not work IN it. I will not clean up the oily film left from it, I will not clean up oil spills everytime the asswipes come to fill the tank.

and then there's friends. 1 friend has stopped coming over all together - just can't find the time.
another friend's visits are slowing down considerably - work ya know.
and the other friend just stopped by for the second time in a year. Woo.

I can't get out. I can't drive. I can't do public places with all the noise, movement, people and unfamiliarity.

I'm sick of it. I'm tired of trying to remember all of the things Mom starts, but forgets to finish. I'm tired of trying to remember what to reminder her of, and hope she doesn't get pissed because I'm reminding her. I'm tired of reminding Dad all the time, knowing he'll probably forget. I'm tired of trying to keep the things I *want* to do going while trying to get the things I should or even have to do done AND keep the house clean.

I'm tired of being responsible for 2 other adults when I can barely be responsible for myself. I'm tired of not stepping on toes and trying to make things so Mom doesn't keep saying, "I'm sick of it".

All of the flower beds - she's sick of them. I've spread those flowers everywhere and she's sick of it. That's not the surgery talking either. She said it last year too.

Well tough shit! I like them and they beat mowing! Don't fuckin' look at them if you're so sick of them! It's not like you set foot outdoors anyway!

And she hates rehab. That makes me so angry. I'd give just about anything to be able to go work out for an hour and still have the ability to drive to a store, get groceries and come home alive and not puking.

I can't escape. I hate that.