Originally Posted Elsewhere, December 2008

This was posted to another blog of mine, two months after my dad died. Yet another illustration of the monster.

I really should stop doing things that normal folks would do in similar situations.
Srsly.

Last week, I called my dad’s (now-former) vet to take his name off the reminders list (yanno those reminder cards they mail out), and let them know his sister will be taking care of his dog from now on, and that I’ll be letting my aunt know the vet’s #, and that she might be calling them for the dog’s medical records, vaccinations list, etc. (The only way to stop getting mail addressed to my dad is simply by doing this, over and over again, with magazines, newspapers, and all the charities he managed to give money to.)
The vet in turn calls my mother to:

1. Verify that all this is true;
2. To extend their condolences.

All this managed to do was be-fucking-fuddle Pitiful Pearl. I don’t know if she’s got some low-level senility kicking in, if she’s an attention whore, or if what I’m about to regale you with is her way to punish me. Yanno. For being normal (or at least striving for a facsimile thereto).

The moment she hung up with the vet, she:

1. Called me AT work (I let it roll to voice mail, as I’m tired of this bullshitty bullshit of talking every day to her);
2. When I didn’t answer my desk phone, she then called my cell phone, again, letting it go to voicemail, with her leaving this message, “IT’S YOUR MOTHER.” click!;
3. While I am at the chiropractor, she called FOUR MORE EFFING TIMES in quick succession with similarly rude/terse/cunty-voiced messages ranging from: “It’s your mother,” to “CALL ME,” to “Did you call the vet?” (Never a “please” nor a splinter of good manners  in the lot.);
   Subtotal of calls thus far: 6
   
4. I get home, and there are THREE EFFING MESSAGES on the machine, all identical to the ones she’s already left;
   Subtotal of calls thus far: 9
5. As I am finishing cooking dinner and about to sit down (time: roughly 9 p.m.), she calls YET AGAIN. Seeing the name on the caller ID, I pick up and say real pissy, “YES?!?”

Her: I’ve been real worried. Did you call the vet today? Me: Obviously.
Her: Why?
Me: OBVIOUSLY I thought it was necessary.
Her: Oh.
Me: I’m eating dinner.
Her: Okay. Bye.

10.

That’s TEN MOTHER-EFFING-PHONE CALLS about NOTHING. This is the type of harassment I am dealing with from her.

When the man was alive, she treated me as if I were the “other woman” (need I remind anyone how she introduced me to dad’s day nurse as, “Oh, let me introduce you to my HUSBAND’S DAUGHTER.”

Since he’s been gone, she treats me like I’m an effing thief when I’m at the house;
And in the meantime somehow or another, she obviously thinks this type of behavior is acceptable. Or worse: normal.

Whether I am subtle or I go for the effing jugular, it doesn’t make a difference; because she simply does not give a shit that not everyone wants to talk to her every effing moment of every effing day; totally disregarding the fact that she has absolutely nothing to talk about (to my face; behind my back, I know for a fact it’s a different story).

Oh, and the whole vet situation is on top of the already fucked up, ”I’m calling you, but I don’t have anything to talk about,”  or the “I’m calling you because I don’t want you to think I’m avoiding you,” type telephone calls. WTF?

She’s avoiding me? Sign me up! Where do I sign? Aren’t I entitled to some down time? Some decompression? Time alone with my own thoughts, my own life, totally and mutually exclusive from her?