I know what's annoying me. My mom constantly talking down at me about her opinions. She doesn't seem to want to hear what I have to say.
Also, I stepped on my dogs tail while she was trying to follow me. I got mad because the reason she was following me was because she wanted my food. I nearly lost my food. Glad I didn't. I've lost a lot of food in this house for stupid reasons. One time, before my brother's and I cleaned the kitchen (no, you can't tell it's any better now, in fact it's gotten worse, but at least there's a sink now, and an entryway into the kitchen at all) there was no way into the kitchen. It was totally blocked off, and worse, the sink was so full of straight up disgusting dishes that it wasn't usable. This was a downright shame because my uncle, Gary, who had just been fired from his detective job for not being racist enough (I'm not exaggerating), had changed the faucet for us. He's a very kind dude. Yeah, the same one who ran away at age 16 to join a war because that was a better option than living with his dad.
So when I cooked noodles, I had to squeeze my way in, and I was the only person small enough to get into the kitchen. I had a newly-messed-up wrist. In fact, it was getting rubbed into my face, because I had been an artist. I painted, I did still life, I made sculptures, I could draw a face as long as I had half of one to base mine off of (ha), yada yada you've heard this before, and then I had that little accident and in the middle of a painting I had to direct another person's hand to finish my piece, and it obviously did not come out how I pictured it.
It's somewhere in the mess of a living room with my other artwork, no idea if it's in any kind of savable condition at this point.
I would cook noodles and then be forced to go to the bathroom of all places to strain them. The bathroom has a tiny sink that no one has washed for years, and that's where I had to expose these stupid noodles. We also could put the strainer in the bathroom sink, because my mom was convinced that it would dirty up the strainer.
Therefore our dinner would always end up in the bathroom sink, because my messed up wrist could never hold the pot steady and I would dump it. And get laughed at. Which, yeah, it was funny, but also, why did I have to have noodles in the bathroom? Why was it so disgusting? Why is everything disgusting?
I was in the middle of OCD work at the time and the therapist I had back then was literally like, "You did a good job rinsing them, now I wish you would have eaten them" BITCH, WOULD YOU EAT THEM?? That was really not just a me-thing, y'all haven't seen this f*cking sink. Neither of my brothers even bothered brushing their teeth anymore and that sink was likely half of why
