The calm down the road lasted right at 24 hours until Mama realized she had lost all her clothes over the course of four months in hospital and rehab land. As I was heading out from the sawmill she called all frantic about not having any underwear so I did a U-turn on the west side and dropped by the dolla' gentral for a pack of panties and another bra. True to form, she told me on delivery to ask Daddy for the $ back which I didn't do because I wanted to get home. Mario was there teaching her how to get in and out of bed. Since there were no long sleeve shirts and only ten boxes of sweaters I took some of mine down there to hang up for pajama tops or whatever. That's when the shit hit the fan because Daddy was watching the news and I interrupted his routine. It was a given that in order for her to "come home" we would be allowed to come and go as needed and she had some meds delivered and whatnot so I was there to give her one when she went all co-dependent while he told me to go to hell 20 times at the top of his lungs. It didn't do her mind any good for us to be fighting so I took my leave and drove home at 60 mph honking the horn like a mofo. And then I took a Benadryl and rested with the puppies.
Still not even a Charlie Brown tree here but several strands of multicolored mini-lights hanging to and fro because it's festive. There's even one draped over the nativity scene. I'm alone for the evening as BG is busy working in the kitchen at a local restaurant and it's "the holidays" dontcha' know. Everybody and their brother books an office Christmas dinner this time of year. Ours will be at bossfriend's house next week and everybody brings a dish and whatever kids are around. Daddy and I talked after the big blowup like nothing ever happened and he's pretty good about that...brushing it off and getting back to normal. His temper is explosive but doesn't last long if you leave him be.
It's now my day off for which I had grand plans to hit the road but decided my mental health requires a myofascial release treatment and some downtime. The roller coaster ride of emotions involved in this whole thing that is my life currently is something I'm having to really work at disconnecting from. This old gal is drawing lines in the sand every which'a way she turns and that's a good thing, as Martha would say. Boundaries are made to be tested and stretched but enough is enough. It's Poopie time.