There are some times in your life when you have had it up to here with the white noise that is life.
Usually it is a parent (i.e. mom), so sick and tired of kids yammering away with snot running out their noses and diapers full of poop they have to scream - loudly - to oust the burgeoning frustration, or else kill their spouse (i.e. man) for procreating.
For this 34-year old, it isn't kids but parents.
Sometimes I feel like I'm raising them just like kids. Oh, I don't have a spouse (wishful thinking) or kids of my own (THANK GOD), but I do have my lovely folks.
Kind enough to take me into their small home after I lost my job, I get to sleep in the living room on a futon mattress that has seen better days (with my cats taking up most of the space since I don't have a spouse to kick them out) and listen to their constant yammering all day long.
My father loves to sing and whistle and slap his belly like a drummer who forgot the drum. Sometimes I think he does this to ping objects near him - like bats do. Seriously. You'd think it would at least keep the flies away, but alas, all it does is make my eardrums bleed and my left eye twitch. My other likes to bitch. She's in menopause. Nuf said.
It was really great of them to take me in, but the stint that I thought would be six months has turned into more than TWO YEARS. (Yeah, feels great to feel like a financial failure after all these years of living paycheck-to-paycheck. Sure glad the financial blessings are rolling in now! - That is sarcasm, if you could not tell.)
I'm nearly at the end of my sanity. I was on my own since I was 18 and it has not been a pretty transition.
If God wants to humble me, He's done a fine job of it. He's also stolen what little was left of my sanity after journalism and an ill-fated job in a small town. My financial stability sucks and my prospects for more freelance work aren't looking good.
I decided it was high time to start penning fiction again, since it is my first love and I know I could market it myself online.
I wrote some really terrific chapters of two books and a few short stories. Transcribing them hasn't happened.
Yeah, try transcribing a steamy sex scene while one of your folks is watching over your shoulder and see just how far YOU get.
I think my world would be better with aerosol Prozac. Sprayed at my will. All. Day. Long.
What was that blog post I read about counting your blessings? Hm. Well, I'm blessed to have a corner of the living room to sleep in. I'm blessed to no longer have financial stability, no prospects for a husband, let alone a damn DATE because of too many reasons to name, to have a car that needed $400 in repairs but is - Thank God - paid for...
Well, maybe I should just stick with bitching. It is what I do best.