Liz, yo (oulan) wrote,
Liz, yo
oulan

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Today was hell

So my mother decided that at 8 this morning, I was to be torn from the most beautiful dream I've had in a few days to make me help her clean her room, rip apart her old computer desk, and get the new one in here.

Let me start by saying that I am so deathly allergic to dust that I can no longer go into my own basement in fear of a visit to the hospital. Also, the second most important piece of information for this story: My mother doesn't believing in dusting. So wouldn't you guess the moment I lifted the clock off the top of the desk, I was bent over the bathroom sink coughing my lungs out into the drain, crying tears of hate and misery and cursing every god invented by man.

And it didn't end there. Oh no. After tossing down perhaps three doses of allergy relief and pouring a few treatments of eye drops into my eyes... I was expected to continue the job.

So, I'm in there, working my ass off, sorting her shit, boxing things, bagging other things... all that fun hard labor... and she leaves. She got up and fucking left the room. I was completely baffled. And when she came back she opened the window above the desk saying it was to help me breath, but really the only thing it was helping was the dust to waft right into my fucking face. Oh yeah. Just what I need. More dust.

Then, as my father was bringing the other desk upstairs, my mother moved a gathering of wires out of the way and said "Uh oh! Bzzz bzzz *nods* Bzzz". I am not even shitting you. That was exactly what came out of her mouth. After a few moments of mime and quite a bit of head shaking on my part, I figured out the floor needed to be vacuumed. And then she walked out of the fucking room again.

I'm sorry. Did I forget to remind you about my allergies again? Was the throwing up in the sink too small of a fucking hint!?

So I had to vacuum. Then, while passed out in the hallway, waiting for my life to come to an end as my lungs closed in from dust irritation, she comes out and starts bitching about how I'm not in there reassembling her fucking computer.

So now the computer is moved to a desk about one eighth the size of our old one. It is so cramped, we can't fit the speakers and the monitor together on the surface. I;m just sitting here thinking, "What the fuck were you thinking, ma?"


I need out.
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