Ok, then, well here's the story.
I know I've mentioned my iguanas Bud and Jinx numerous times before. What can I say? They've both been significant parts of my life for nearly four years now. They were both 'rescues' from previous owners who had no idea how to care for them properly (I'm Jinx's third owner and at least Bud's second), and as a result took ungodly amounts of re-socialization, veterinary visits, nutritional help, and plain old tender loving care to become healthy, happy, and sociable pets once again. But I'm now facing two new challenges to their happiness and well-being...
...Mom, of course, hates them. And Bud and Jinx truly DESPISE each other. So, now I've got the problem of how to keep two sexually-mature adult male green iguanas separated so they don't kill each other? A particularly complicated question, seeing as I've got a mother who's constantly bitching about how much space and maintenance they already need.
This whole thing came to a head yesterday when, after a lovely afternoon of frolicking in the backyard, they immediately began fighting upon being put back in their terrarium. And I mean fighting, tooBud ripped into the appropriately-named Jinx hard enough to bring blood. So, keeping them together is no longer an option.
So, considering the realities of my current situation (little money, even less living space I can call my own), Ive had to make the heart-wrenching decision to find one of them another home. In the meantime, Ive had to buy a small dog kennel (the size youd usually use to transport a cocker spaniel) and convert it into a makeshift iguana habitat to keep Bud in in the meantime. Granted, its a temporary solution at best, but its the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment.
And, of course, none of this is sitting well AT ALL with Mom. Never mind that Im keeping it in MY ROOM, that IM PAYING RENT TO LIVE INwe just dont have enough room. She just cant deal with it. Also, never mind that weve got three whole rooms in this house that no one uses, two beds that no one sleeps on, and closets and bureaus filled to capacity with clothes that were outgrown and/or went out of fashion THIRTY YEARS AGO. No, Ive never really been anything more than a guest in this house, tolerated only as long as I stay quiet and subservient, dont take up too much space, and dont create too much interference with their chosen lifestyle.
Even the fact that I had to buy the dog kennel is causing friction. Over breakfast this morning, Mom asked me how much I had to spend on the thing. (It came to about $35.) For which she lit into me: I dont need to be spending all my money on frivolous things like that that we dont even need. That I need to be taking better care of my money. That I THINK shes going to give me her car, but that if I think SHES going to take all the financial responsibility, Ive got another thing coming Incidentally, do you want to guess how long shes been using that empty promise/threat as a proverbial dangling carrot to control my every move? Ive resigned myself to the fact that, by the time she gets around to actually giving me the damn thing, Im going to be able to buy my own car anywaysand probably a newer one with fewer miles on it, to boot.
Allow me to continue this thought for a moment: so what other frivolous things have I been spending my money on, anyways? Well, the main drain on my bank account thus far has beencollege. Thats right: every red cent of my USC-Aiken expenses thus far have come straight out of MY pocket. She wants to talk about what a huge favor shes doing me by letting me use Dads truck to get to and from college and by keeping it gassed up so I can do sonever mind that Ive volunteered on numerous occasions to take on that cost as well. But thus is her warped way of thinking: Ill offer to pay for things like, say, my medical bills, the payments on this computer, gas for the truck, phone bills, groceries, laundry service, or any of the other numerous costs that I incur that Im more than capable of covering. But shell pay them, using the argument that I need to be taking care of my moneyand then turn around and accuse me of being irresponsible, immature, and incapable of taking care of things because SHES having to pay for so much.
So who cares that Im spending an average of $6 a day for lunch while Im at work? Why should it matter that Im sponsoring a kid in Bolivia through Christian Childrens Fund, or that Ill donate a token $15 a month or so to various political causes? Why is it such a big deal that once a month or so, Ill go out and buy myself a $15 CD? I already live like a damn monkI have no friends, no social life, and very rarely ever leave the Geddings family compound for anything other than school or work. How much more does she think shes capable of depriving me of, all in the name of teaching me financial responsibility?
But back to the iguanas. It doesnt matter that this decision is tearing me up inside. Until I can find someone who can give Bud a better life than I can, Im going to have to put up with her pettiness. How long do you think itll be until you get rid of him? If I were you, Id just take him out in the yard and turn him loose. And her personal favorite, I just cant deal with this Welcome to my personal Hell.
Oh, and another thing:
My Aunt Betsy is just like her. Shes every bit as manipulativeonly I never see or hear from her unless shes wanting something from me. She lives here in Barnwell as well, and pays lip service to so wanting to help me out of my current situationbut how often do I ever see her or hear from her? Last night was a prime example: out of the blue, she calls me and asks me all about how Im doing and how everything is goingand then proceeds to ask me to baby-sit one of her friends nine-year-old son. To which I agreelets face it, what else am I going to do on a Saturday night in Barnwell? But then Mom and Dad find out just who it is Im supposed to be babysitting, which creates a degree of lividness within the Geddings household that I hadnt witnessed in quite some time. Turns out theres a very good reason why Im being askedits because this kid is a little monster that NO ONE ELSE IN TOWN is willing to baby-sit. Not my aunt, not my cousinshell, even his parents can barely stand him. How dare my aunt take advantage of me like that by getting me into a situation for which Im completely unprepared, so went the argument.
and then the bombshell. Why dont I call her back and tell her Im not going to do it. Great, just what I wantedto be stuck in the middle of a family argument that I want no part of. So I refuse to call, Aunt Betsy comes over to pick me up, words were exchanged between Dad and my auntI get out of the job and spend the rest of the night sitting at home listening to Mom bitch about the iguanas.
I really hate being the collective family afterthought. Everyone wants to help me so much, yet everyone elses concerns invariably trump mine. Everyone knows whats best for me, but no one really gives a shit what I really want. Everyone is so concerned about my supposed immaturity, yet no one wants to leave me the fuck alone to make my own damn decisions about my life
Anyone still wonder why Im so miserable here in Barnwell?
I know I've mentioned my iguanas Bud and Jinx numerous times before. What can I say? They've both been significant parts of my life for nearly four years now. They were both 'rescues' from previous owners who had no idea how to care for them properly (I'm Jinx's third owner and at least Bud's second), and as a result took ungodly amounts of re-socialization, veterinary visits, nutritional help, and plain old tender loving care to become healthy, happy, and sociable pets once again. But I'm now facing two new challenges to their happiness and well-being...
...Mom, of course, hates them. And Bud and Jinx truly DESPISE each other. So, now I've got the problem of how to keep two sexually-mature adult male green iguanas separated so they don't kill each other? A particularly complicated question, seeing as I've got a mother who's constantly bitching about how much space and maintenance they already need.
This whole thing came to a head yesterday when, after a lovely afternoon of frolicking in the backyard, they immediately began fighting upon being put back in their terrarium. And I mean fighting, tooBud ripped into the appropriately-named Jinx hard enough to bring blood. So, keeping them together is no longer an option.
So, considering the realities of my current situation (little money, even less living space I can call my own), Ive had to make the heart-wrenching decision to find one of them another home. In the meantime, Ive had to buy a small dog kennel (the size youd usually use to transport a cocker spaniel) and convert it into a makeshift iguana habitat to keep Bud in in the meantime. Granted, its a temporary solution at best, but its the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment.
And, of course, none of this is sitting well AT ALL with Mom. Never mind that Im keeping it in MY ROOM, that IM PAYING RENT TO LIVE INwe just dont have enough room. She just cant deal with it. Also, never mind that weve got three whole rooms in this house that no one uses, two beds that no one sleeps on, and closets and bureaus filled to capacity with clothes that were outgrown and/or went out of fashion THIRTY YEARS AGO. No, Ive never really been anything more than a guest in this house, tolerated only as long as I stay quiet and subservient, dont take up too much space, and dont create too much interference with their chosen lifestyle.
Even the fact that I had to buy the dog kennel is causing friction. Over breakfast this morning, Mom asked me how much I had to spend on the thing. (It came to about $35.) For which she lit into me: I dont need to be spending all my money on frivolous things like that that we dont even need. That I need to be taking better care of my money. That I THINK shes going to give me her car, but that if I think SHES going to take all the financial responsibility, Ive got another thing coming Incidentally, do you want to guess how long shes been using that empty promise/threat as a proverbial dangling carrot to control my every move? Ive resigned myself to the fact that, by the time she gets around to actually giving me the damn thing, Im going to be able to buy my own car anywaysand probably a newer one with fewer miles on it, to boot.
Allow me to continue this thought for a moment: so what other frivolous things have I been spending my money on, anyways? Well, the main drain on my bank account thus far has beencollege. Thats right: every red cent of my USC-Aiken expenses thus far have come straight out of MY pocket. She wants to talk about what a huge favor shes doing me by letting me use Dads truck to get to and from college and by keeping it gassed up so I can do sonever mind that Ive volunteered on numerous occasions to take on that cost as well. But thus is her warped way of thinking: Ill offer to pay for things like, say, my medical bills, the payments on this computer, gas for the truck, phone bills, groceries, laundry service, or any of the other numerous costs that I incur that Im more than capable of covering. But shell pay them, using the argument that I need to be taking care of my moneyand then turn around and accuse me of being irresponsible, immature, and incapable of taking care of things because SHES having to pay for so much.
So who cares that Im spending an average of $6 a day for lunch while Im at work? Why should it matter that Im sponsoring a kid in Bolivia through Christian Childrens Fund, or that Ill donate a token $15 a month or so to various political causes? Why is it such a big deal that once a month or so, Ill go out and buy myself a $15 CD? I already live like a damn monkI have no friends, no social life, and very rarely ever leave the Geddings family compound for anything other than school or work. How much more does she think shes capable of depriving me of, all in the name of teaching me financial responsibility?
But back to the iguanas. It doesnt matter that this decision is tearing me up inside. Until I can find someone who can give Bud a better life than I can, Im going to have to put up with her pettiness. How long do you think itll be until you get rid of him? If I were you, Id just take him out in the yard and turn him loose. And her personal favorite, I just cant deal with this Welcome to my personal Hell.
Oh, and another thing:
My Aunt Betsy is just like her. Shes every bit as manipulativeonly I never see or hear from her unless shes wanting something from me. She lives here in Barnwell as well, and pays lip service to so wanting to help me out of my current situationbut how often do I ever see her or hear from her? Last night was a prime example: out of the blue, she calls me and asks me all about how Im doing and how everything is goingand then proceeds to ask me to baby-sit one of her friends nine-year-old son. To which I agreelets face it, what else am I going to do on a Saturday night in Barnwell? But then Mom and Dad find out just who it is Im supposed to be babysitting, which creates a degree of lividness within the Geddings household that I hadnt witnessed in quite some time. Turns out theres a very good reason why Im being askedits because this kid is a little monster that NO ONE ELSE IN TOWN is willing to baby-sit. Not my aunt, not my cousinshell, even his parents can barely stand him. How dare my aunt take advantage of me like that by getting me into a situation for which Im completely unprepared, so went the argument.
and then the bombshell. Why dont I call her back and tell her Im not going to do it. Great, just what I wantedto be stuck in the middle of a family argument that I want no part of. So I refuse to call, Aunt Betsy comes over to pick me up, words were exchanged between Dad and my auntI get out of the job and spend the rest of the night sitting at home listening to Mom bitch about the iguanas.
I really hate being the collective family afterthought. Everyone wants to help me so much, yet everyone elses concerns invariably trump mine. Everyone knows whats best for me, but no one really gives a shit what I really want. Everyone is so concerned about my supposed immaturity, yet no one wants to leave me the fuck alone to make my own damn decisions about my life
Anyone still wonder why Im so miserable here in Barnwell?
kasara:
lol... weirdo.