She wrote us a shitty email tonight. Since she moved over to the other side of town with my stepfather, into assisted living, she has been an absolute bitch. Of course, they moved, and two days later my stepfather had a stroke; relatively minor, thankfully, he just came back to the apartment last weekend after several weeks in rehab. And about two weeks after that, she caused a three-car accident and totaled her car because she shouldn’t fucking be on the road.
So we’ve been handling the insurance shit from that because she doesn’t hear worth a damn on the phone, and of course we’ve had to submit paperwork three times, the latest one on Monday (but picked up Tuesday evening because that’s when UPS picked up from the box we had to leave it in).
So she asks tonight if we have the check from the insurance company, and why haven’t we brought it over, and by the way why did we have it sent here instead of there? As if we’re hiding it from her or some damn thing, because she also thinks we’re conspiring to prevent her from driving again — which I’d do if I could, in a heartbeat, but I also know I can’t stop her if she insists.
Well, first of all, we just sent the fucking odometer report FOR THE THIRD TIME yesterday. If they even have it processed and in the system today, I’d be amazed. So the check isn’t here, and probably won’t be here for several days yet, assuming they don’t find some other reason to slow-roll the payout. (After which they will probably cancel her, but that’s another concern.)
The reason we have been having everything mailed here is because we don’t want it to get lost over at the home. Plus, I’m here all day and I’ll be here when UPS or whoever delivers it. (They seem to really like UPS for some reason.) I don’t want her damn money. Frankly I hope she chokes on it.
Then she was bitching about the fact that she has eight boxes of shit sitting in our garage from the apartment and she just knows that things she needs are in them. She wants to come over and go through them. I’ve told her she can do that, but I have to work, so she’s going to have to have someone bring her over here and take her home. She was going to do that last week but she “didn’t feel good” so she called it off. After I sat home all day waiting for her.
So of course she bitched tonight and insinuated that I should come and get her for that purpose. Well, fuck that; it’s an hour round-trip over there and back, and I have to work.
And she bitched about other things that she had already been told about and had agreed were settled appropriately.
I’d swear she was getting Alzheimer’s, but it’s not that. She’s angry about the move (it’s a tiny apartment, but with assisted living, it’s what my stepfather can afford without selling off investments, and I don’t care how old he is, you don’t ever spend the principle if you can help it), she’s pissed off that she doesn’t have a car (and she thinks we’re conspiring to keep it that way), and she’s lashing out at us because we don’t have any good way to tell her to go to hell and stay there at the moment. The move wasn’t her idea, and wasn’t our idea either; it was my stepfather’s daughter’s decision because he was not getting proper care where they were and going into assisted living there would have been a) more expensive and b) not much of an improvement over what they already had, since that home doesn’t have full-time nursing staff and an on-call doctor. My stepsister did the intelligent thing and move them to a place where her dad would be well taken care of. And my mother is pissed because she didn’t have any say — and legally, even though they’re married, she doesn’t. His health is legally his daughter’s responsibility, not my mother’s.
All I can say is thank God she and Dad waited to have me till they were in their thirties, because if I were ten years older like most of my cousins, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now. Probably having a heart attack or a stroke of my own because her attitude of “it’s all about me” is really pissing me the fuck off. She has absolutely no consideration for anyone else at this point.
My wife answered her email, because if I had, the entire response would have read, “Fuck off and die.”
I know my sister reads this occasionally; well, sis, this is what we put up with at home when you’re gone. She’s not the nice little old lady she acts like when you’re here. Sorry to say it, but it’s the truth.