there are things I am not: a patient person, an accepting person, a tolerant person = a good person.
I am aware…so forgive me this post.
As most of you know, I’m currently still looking for a place to live…and last week was a bust with the car in the shop for 5 days + crazy crazy school times. That being the case, I am still up at my mum’s house itching to get back to a regular life…ie. a life with my own space and my own stuff. This, although I am very close to my mum and we’re getting along fine up here, is driving me a bit mental (well, this plus a few unfinished things that keep cropping up).
My stepfather is a nice man…we, too, get along fine. We’re not at all close, but we are fairly respectful of each other’s space. His mother has come up to visit (from California) a kind lady…sweet, though she’s lost her hearing and shouts. It’s okay…she’s well intentioned. She has, however, brought with her the 4th in a series of husbands and he is making me climb the effing walls.
John…for that is his name…this headache is dedicated to your wrinkled 81 year old ass.
Whatever. I know he’s old. I’m being as respectful as I can…but mother of god! Such an abrasive old prick!
I look in the classifieds for a place to live…”Are you looking for a man??”
I work on my computer…a word document is up with the title “Phonotactics study lab procedures”…”You’re not looking up boys on that thing, are you??”
I was tired the other night and parked maybe a foot away from the curb..he rode me about it for 2 days! “why’d you go an park in the middle of the street like that?”
Even when you’re 81, you’ve GOT to have better things to do…don’t you?
Truth is, I’m not used to this type of treatment. My grandmother is Polish. I”m used to passive aggression…not straight aggression. I’m used to the heavily accented and secretly barbed words of a woman with generations of training in the art of guilt. Not this straight ahead “I gots give the young’uns a hard time” that I’ve been receiving the past couple of days.
Okay…so..’let it go’, you probably are thinking. Yes..I have been. I ignore the comments and keep on truckin’ with clenched teeth….so when he said these following words (when discussing immigrants of Middle Eastern descent (a topic, by the way, no one brought up but him)):
“I call ’em sandn*****s”
…well…you know the “fight for flight” reaction? I picked flight and bolted away from the table and into the other room before I either laughed or threw water in his face. What do you do? He’s 81!! You can’t sit there and act like you agree! You also can’t stand up and say, ‘listen to me you ignorant fuck…’. Or can you???
Another gem from today:
(on me trying to help him with my mum’s ridiculous number of remote controls that I haven’t even grasped yet because I don’t really watch any tv)
“well..why didn’ you just TELL me that you didn’t know how to do it and we could have saved some time”
(luckily, a split second after he said it, I got it to work…smiled sweetly…and said, ‘well, it seems I know better than you do, doesn’t it?’)
Indeed, I am locked in a fierce battle with a 81 one year old man. I am aware this fact does not make me a big person. Got 12 days left…let’s all pray I can find a place to live before that is up.
Just now…after telling me what I should do with my car…he’s peeing with the door open. Grant me strength! I’ll never take my grandmother for granted again!