Mum, from planet Zog

For Pete’s sake. I don’t often do this, but it is rant time. My mother and I don’t just speak different languages. We are from different galaxies. How can we be so completely opposite when I came from her? How can she not understand a single thing I say or do? Am I bad person because I don’t even want to see her before I move to the other side of the world? She reckons she’s coming to stay with me. She has another thing coming. What a fricking nightmare.

It’s hopeless, utterly hopeless. We may be family, but she is never going to come close to knowing me.

This website shows me I’m not the only one who has problems with their mother.

In other news, everyone at work today yelled at everyone else and I sat quietly in theĀ  middle and ate chocolate til I felt sick. This is not a good way to deal with things.

The guy I buy my coffee from has started calling me Cat Lady. Frick. At least it’s not Crazy Cat Lady I guess.

Sigh. Like Calvin says, some days even lucky underwear doesn’t help.

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