Grandma's home now. You'd think the chaos would stop, since we all know that it drives gradma crazy. You'd think wrong. Now Gary wants to go through the boxes downstairs, in the basement, under the guise of "helping" grandma. Now, I have yet to figure out exactly how this helps grandma. Oh, wait, I guess uncovering the pool table to give it to my cousin is helpful. My mistake. And, apparently, this desire to give the pool table to his daughter means that he has every right to go through and fold the laundry we had downstairs. Because we don't mind him going through our personal panties or anything. Jackass.
The family, as usual, treats mom and I like we don't really exist. We're "lucky" to be there. My ass we are. Sure, I pay less rent than I would anywhere else...as a compensation for that though, I can't have a social life. Gary has actually done everything of outright tell me I can't have friends over. Why? Because it upsets grandma. Nevermind that him going through her things - placing her laundry on the dining room table - does the same. But, *that's* okay. I can't raise my children, because grandma continually interferes...the other day, she actually told my children I didn't know what I was going. According to Gary though, I'm not supposed to take it personally.
At work, we've just done a shift bid. I've put in to start a little later, and work 4-10s with weekends off. I'm hoping I get that, but am not holding my breath. I chose some other shifts that allowed Sat and Sunday off. It won't allow me much time to myself...but, maybe it'll take some stress off mom. And I'll get more time with the kids.