Bad

I'm a bad person. I already know it and I don't need to be reminded about it, though I often am. Case in point, my mother calls today. Whenever I know my mother has called, I do the same thing. I cringe and then wonder what she wants. Then I call her back and realize that I really don't have much to say to her. I know that's really bad, but it's true. Talking to most anyone in my family is painful for me. We are not great articulaters and communication is something we are poor at. So image what a phone conversation between us would sound like.

Anyway, Mom calls today and tells me my brother is on his way down from Canada to spend the week. I find this odd because the conversation I had with my brother last week was a different story. In that version, he was on his way down shortly and would be leaving this weekend to go back home, not coming this weekend. He was going to spend the week with my parents and then come up here tonight, stay the night and head home tomorrow. This pisses me off because the plans we had for this weekend had to be postponed until next weekend. Now I guessing he still wants to keep his plans of staying here. I don't know if that's going to be possible now.

So back to Mom's call. She calls me today to ask if I want to come to dinner tomorrow. Again, this is me being a bad person, but I hate shit like this. If you want me to come to dinner tomorrow and you knew this version of the travel plans, why are you waiting less than 24 hours to spring this invitation on me? I hate last minute plans like this. Hate them. I don't like surprises. Now my Sunday afternoon of leisure is shot to hell. Instead I'm going to be socializing with my family and I'm still not convinced my brother is even going to show up. He's got an infamous history of making plans to come visit and then never showing up, no matter how many times he promises this time is different. Apparently he's coming down here with someone he and his wife have taken in. A ward of the state or something. I have no idea who this person is. The wife is staying home.

So think good thoughts for me tomorrow while I'm in the smoky den called my parents house. And just imagine how much more I'm going to sound like Brenda Vaccarro after I leave there. (Seriously, they smoke so much that I'm going to have a sore and scratchy throat for two days after leaving there.)