But in all honesty - do I really care - Not really. Is he going to help us move on Saturday? Why should he - my own family aren't so why would he ... I'm sure he's got better things to do too.
Yeah - OK, I'm a little mad. We've lived in our tiny overbearing house for 18 months now ... 12 months longer than we were supposed to be here...and my moods have gotten progressively worse with every passing month. In our old spacious, clean, light, friendly house I had room to breathe and could almost feel the weight lifting off my shoulders and everything was more positive, more upbeat. Of course that was all snatched away in the blink of an eye when the evil Landlord sold it from under us and we had to move into our current hellhole at a moments notice. But now we are finally on the move again - a bigger, better house. More room to breathe and space to spread out in .... I can finally buy wardrobes - I've almost forgotten what it's like to hang clothes up. 'T' will no longer be able to blame the shithole she calls a bedroom on the fact that half the space is full of unpacked boxes and an extra bed.
So to moving ... Saturday. We've blagged a van, we have an extra pair of hands from The Mighty Atom - but are our families rushing to help? Are they hell. Oh - we've had an interim loan from Nyge's parents to help cover the first months rent until we get paid next week, but no offers of lending a hand. My parents can do it next weekend ... that's nice ... but we're moving this weekend.
I think what hurts the most is that my own mother 'advised' me not to ask my brother. Ah - my brother - the great pro-creator. Has produced a grandchild through natural means and has therefore been elevated to a status of GOD. I merely married into my family - my addition to the grandchild pool came fully formed, walking and talking, and thereby not a 'proper' grandchild. Well - sorry to tell you this dear family - but she's the only one you're getting from me.
I dunno - she's right tho' in a way - I've come to realise over the past couple of years that I don't like my brother very much. I love him - I just don't like him. He's loud, over-opinionated, smug, condescending ..... and all in all not someone I need to be around. And in my parent's eyes he's always going to be better than me. When we were growing up I was always the smart one, the one that was going to make something of my life. I was going to go to University and have a stellar career. I was going to be the one who succeeded in life and made something of myself. I was the one who passed all my exams and had 'a bright future'.
Then I got 'Sick'.....
Oh I made it to University - got kicked out after one year as I never attended lectures - but everyone knew my name as I was the 'crazy chick' with the thigh length purple hair and an never-ending supply of poppers who attended every party, slept with every guy and had the voice of a soul queen. I was fun with a capital F, a capital U and a capital N. My brother couldn't get enough of me then - he spent an entire summer camped on my bedroom floor just to be where the party was.
Six months later I was unemployed, living in a grotty bedsit on a tenner a week - leaving the house only to buy cigarettes and coffee - and no-one crashed on the bedroom floor then did they?
I think I'll dye my hair purple again...
Tink xxx
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