My mom is a very patient person. To a point, anyhow. I remember just one time where she blew a gasket. The other child and I were fighting, as usual, so mom pulls into a parking lot, gets out, slams the door, and took a breather. That’s the only time I really remember her reaching her limit. Now, that limit is slowly creeping up, again, and I’ll only say this: Vesuvius will be down to second place after mom blows.
As I’ve mentioned many times, her husband is both a narcissist and a hoarder. The basement is a nightmare that stinks beyond words, but that’s just half of it.
Here’s a list of what’s upstairs:
The Living Room:
- Eight seriously heavy boxes of flooring he swore he’d use to redo the kitchen about fifteen years ago.
- A Lay-Z-Boy recliner (circa 1984, but still looks good) that he broke on May 6, 2020, and hasn’t fixed.
- Six (yes, six) bath-size towels he has stuffed between the couch and the piano.
- A statue of The Last Supper, with a decapitated apostle, that has been sitting there for eleven months.
The Dining Room:
- No less than six bottles of various outdoor poisons that have been used maybe four times this year.
- Another box of the flooring that he swore to use in the kitchen.
- Various actual garbage items he’s shoved between the shredder and the wall next to it.
- Other cans of who-knows-what in front of the shredder.
- A massive piece of cardboard from the box of our 65-inch TV.
- Garden clippers.
- Wood water-sealant, along with the brushes and rollers used (those smell real good...).
- A camp stool.
On The Table:
- Dead batteries of varying sizes.
- A pack of toothpicks, “just in case”.
- A napkin so dirty that a toddler wouldn’t even touch it.
- A can of mandarin oranges (just... why?).
On Top Of The Fridge (yes, really):
- A plate.
- A bowl.
- Two spoons.
- Two forks.
- A straw.
- A knife.
- Empty containers (fruit, soda bottles, etc.).
- Three cups.
- A food storage container.
- Two soda cozy things.
Back to my point...
Every time mom or I leave something on the counter, it gets a “What do you want done with this?” Or a “Can we find a box to put these things in?” Or my personal favorite, “We need to keep this space clear.”
He had some stuff in the kitchen drawers that didn’t belong there, and hadn’t been used in ten years, or more. I took it out about a month ago, and he just noticed tonight. Mom gave him the bag of all the crap that I’d taken out, and told him that, no, he can’t put it back in the drawer. His response was to find room in the pantry. Here’s the kicker... He wanted mom to move her cookbooks because they’re “in the way”.
Moral of the story: A narcissist never does anything wrong. They can do whatever they damn well please, and you have to compromise what you need or want to accommodate their demands. He sees nothing wrong with leaving his crap around, but mom and I have to chuck stuff we want, simply because he needs more space for actual garbage.
I’m going to love the day mom finally blows up at him. It should have come decades ago, but at least it’s coming to a boiling point, now. I just hope I have time to make popcorn, first.
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