It's all about me, me, me...

I think not.

Though I tend to get bitchy about a great number of things, I'm generally an understanding person, or at least I try to be. But I swear my sister is pushing my understanding (along with what little patience I have) way past its limit.

And if she comes at me again with the ass backwards misconception that I fucking owe her something, it's not going to be pretty. Oh no, it's going to get downright ugly, and I'll be sorry for it, but I've had ENOUGH! I really have.

And I'll tell you why...

(a) After spending over 3 hours (late Thursday night into Friday morning) sitting in the living room at my fathers home while my deceased grandmother laid across the room in the chair that she passed away in because we had to wait for the medical examiner to release her body before we could call the funeral home to come and pick her up, I came home (somewhere around 3:00 am) a complete emotional wreck, and I'm not ashamed to say somewhat traumatized. Sleep was not an option, I couldn't. So I turned to Evan for comfort, and his love helped me get through a few very bad moments, but I never did go to sleep. No, I sat up until I had to get Cameron up and ready for school, and after I took him, I came back and tried to call Robin to find out if my mom was out of surgery yet and then I just sat there and waited for my dad to call and tell me what needed to be done. After my dad called (at 9:00 am), I took a shower, got dressed, and headed to my dads to start what was an extremely heartbreaking day, and one I don't want to relive EVER. I didn't get home until after 7:00 pm, and then because he sees her almost everyday when my dad takes him to school, I had to explain to my son, who has no concept of what death means, that great-gramma had to go to heaven. That was hard, and I'm not sure if I handled it right, but I think I did okay. By 9:00 pm I was emotionally drained to the point of numbness and so completely exhausted I couldn't see straight anymore.

So let me ask you why, after the day (and night before) I'd had, should I care that Christie is depressed over gramma's death and wants me to watch Sarah becasue she needs to get out of the house for a while?

Let's see, I didn't see her sitting in the living room at my fathers the night before watching my papaw, a man I respect more than any other fall to pieces over losing the only woman he's ever loved, nor did I see her in the viewing room at the funeral home the next day while my papaw said his final goodbyes to the woman he's been with for 54 years, oh, and I don't think I saw her in the fancy little office at the funeral home while the funeral director very gently explained how much it was going to cost to bury our gramma, and come to think of it, she wasn't at the church when we were trying to discuss what we'd like to do in her honor either. And God, she wasn't the one who had to read all the notes my papaw passed me because he can't speak and writing notes is the only way he has to express his feelings. The notes were my undoing. I love that man so very much, and I can't cleary express how it felt when he passed me a note that said, "I miss her so much. I love her. I don't want to leave her here, but I know I must. Will you kiss her?" And that was only one.

So tell me, don't you think it was a bit insensitive of her to ask me to babysit her daughter so she can go out and drown her depression in alcohol?

I think so. Apparently she doesn't because after she put Sarah to bed, she had Jason take her out.

(b) After spending Saturday splitting my time between taking care of my mother because Robin left for Sarasota about an hour after she was released from the hospital, and she had basically nothing in the house to eat or drink and no way to get it because she can't drive, taking Cameron for his weekly visit with Drew, and going to my fathers to make sure that he and my papaw were doing alright and didn't need anything. You tell me why I should have to put up with her bitchy attitude because apparently I was disturbing her while she was trying to sleep at 10:00 pm on a Saturday night in the fucking living room?

First, if she wanted to sleep then she should have gone up to her fucking room to do it because unlike me, she has one. Second, the living room is off the dining room, and since the dining room happens to be where I sleep it's a given that I'm not going to tip toe around what would be considered MY ROOM so Miss Priss can take her beauty nap.

(c) Because Cameron has no school Monday or Tuesday, my mother-in-law took him to stay with her and his cousin in Miami until Tuesday night so that I can get the things I need done for the memorial service without having to worry about him. I have to design and print up memorial cards, stop by the Christian book store and pick up a Guest Register because my papaw would like to have one, go to the store and get the biggest frame I can find and the rest of the materials I'll need for the collage picture board my papaw asked me to do for the memorial, and pick up Drew so he can help me put it together and design the lettering and borders. Knowing that I have to do all that tonight because tomorrow night is pretty much out because they finally approved my infusion, and if it all goes as planned it'll happen tomorrow, where the fuck does she get off calling me at work, and chewing my ass because she expected me to watch Sarah tonight (which was news to me, mind you, because like always she never fucking asked, she just assumed) and she finds it unreasonable that I refused to do it. When I told her I couldn't do it because I had too much that I needed to do for the memorial, she had the balls to say, "What you need to do is help me out because I'd do it for you." Well, fuck that. I have helped her out more times than I care to count, and I'm not doing it this time. I can't. And I refuse to kill myself because she seems to think that I should stop my life whenever the hell she feels like using me.

Ah, I'm feeling a bit hostile at the moment. Can anyone tell?

I probably shouldn't post this because you're all probably going to think that one (or both) of us is a bitch, and well, it's just not nice to trash my sister, but fuck it, I'm not feeling very nice right now.

EDITED @ 11:50 PM EST: For all of Drew's faults, I've got to say that the man knows how to handle and curve my moods pretty well. You see, my sister never came home last night, and when she called me at work earlier before she started reading me the riot act about not watching Sarah, I aksed her where she was, and she explained that this guy rented them a hotel room on the beach, but she assured me that it's not what I think. They didn't have sex, or even kiss, they just played scrabble until well into the morning, and then went to bed on opposite sides without any physical contact, of course (and if you buy that one, let me sell you another).

Because of the whole bullshit conversation I had with her, I was in a bit (okay, more than a bit) of a pissy mood when I picked up Drew. Because he absolutely detests when I'm pissy, he went about trying to change that. And it was cool, we actually had fun together picking out stuff for the picture collage, but the best part was when we were pulling into the driveway, he turned to me and whispered, "Baby, I was thinking I'd rent us a room on the beach, and we can play scrabble ALL-NIGHT-LONG."

And I should note, I don't believe I've ever played scrabble, and I'm seriously not thinking Christie has either, but hey, I could be wrong.