So, I think the focus of my blog is going to take a little turn, for my sanity. I had originally intended for this to be a funny, running history of my stupid dating stories. But at this moment, I feel that I truly need to blog for its cathartic, therapeutic, getting it all out there (without the subjects you're speaking of necessarily knowing) type of benefits.
In the midst of closing up shop at one job and getting ready to start another, I'm moving in with my boyfriend (who is pretty great, by the way). Several months ago, it was decided that his Aunt Kathy would need a place to live, and well, our place ended up being the big winner. Lucky us.
Let me tell you a bit about Aunt Kathy. Mid 50's, single, no kids (which may ultimately be reason for my demise because she spoils Randy like a grandma spoils a two year old), used to live in a camper in the middle of nowhere for approximately eight years. She loves horses and has a crazy, overly hyper german pointer named Zinda. Aunt Kathy has all the answers about anything related to the home, cooking, gardening, the weather, neurobiology, astrophysics, the animals, ah yes, and whether or not I will be warm enough.
It took me several months of positive mantras and therapy to get to the point where I could say one of the following out loud when someone asks me about the move:
a) "It will be fine. It will really help us with rent."
b) "Its not forever, it just means I have to readjust my view of how Randy and I would start our life together" Or,
c) (my personal favorite) "Its great to be with a man who loves his family so much. It makes me feel very hopeful about our future." blech. I know.
On Monday when my dear, sweet, boyfriend went to her house to help her move "a few things" to get the ball rolling for her June 1st arrival date, "a few things" resulted in the following text message being sent to me:
"well i guess aunt kathy is staying at our place starting tonight... i got here and her bed was loaded... sorry... i didn't know she was starting early. I'm sorry hun... really."
At the present time, she has not acknowledged the fact that she moved in two full weeks early. Furthermore, she sees no problem with us having two coffee makers on the counter, and her boxes everywhere, while she sits in the recliner and crochets. Good, I'm glad she has time to invest in her hobbies instead of picking up her crap.
Its ok, though, I've taken to a new little stress reliever. Everytime she says something that makes my skin crawl such as "I think you should put on a jacket, you'll be too cold" or "Junior (what she calls Randy), do you want a sip of my coffee" or "What's the score for the Mariners?" (when the score is right there, on the screen, for the entire game), I have taken to hissing, under my breath, just loud enough that I can hear it. And feel the make believe venom shooting out of me.
I think I may market the hissing thing as a stress management technique. I think you all should try it. The next time someone says something that makes you want to scream, vomit, etc., try hissing. Childish? Maybe. Effective? Definitely.
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