I spent almost five weeks in Kentucky.
At my mom’s.
I’m still amazed that I was able to get through it calmly.
For the most part it was fine. In all fairness it really was fine. I didn’t see her a lot. She worked during the day. I worked at night. We went almost four days without even running into each other. Which worked for both of us sort of.
She is really passive aggressive.
One weekend the church that she tries to attend was having a church picnic with live music. She wanted to go. She asked me at least ten times whether I was going to have to work that Sunday. Each time I told her I didn’t know. When it got closer to the time I finally told her that I couldn’t take her. That didn’t slow down the asking. She kept right on asking.
It turned out that I could take her. I didn’t have to be at work till much later so I told her I’d be happy to take her. (Maybe not happy but you know what I mean.) And wouldn’t you know it. She no longer wanted to go. Seems someone had broken into the church and stolen the air conditioner and so it was going to be hot. So she’d decided not to go.
Getting her to commit to anything is next to impossible. I invited her to see the last show I was designing. She didn’t decide if she was going until about 5:30 the night of the show.
She really showed herself though after my Uncle Tom died. She did nothing but be disparaging toward Aunt Doo. To the point that a couple of times I had to walk out of the room to keep from yelling at her.
My favorite though was a day or two before I left. We were talking and I asked if she’d talked to Aunt Doo. She said, “Yes. She’s sounds down or something, but she won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Perhaps what’s wrong is that her husband just fucking died. REALLY. You couldn’t figure out what was wrong.
I know I should be more patient. It’s just hard sometime.
All that being said, it was nice to see her and not have to rush out the door to get back home. It was nice to not have to drive around one day visiting all the relatives. It was nice to not feel so guilty when I packed up and left. I almost got the feeling that she was ready for me to leave when I finally did.
Of course she’s already started with the “when are you coming back home” questions.