Ever just want to tear your hair out, or someone else's? If you cannot restore a sense of balance, you will run away from home? Just want to say some things without the constraints of staying on topic? Well, this thread is for you! If you just need a short break to let it all hang out, be a brat, then come on, you can do it. No holding back! Go for it, you can do it.
As far as talking about my Mom on here. I would but I want to keep this thread fun, so I'll think of fun stories about my Mom for here and keep the crying and missing her posts for another thread.
Not that I'm saying that people on here can't talk about whatever they want to but ..............anyhow. You all know what I mean, I hope.
Up at twenty to seven this morning to be ready for the delivery of my eagerly-awaited sofa bed. Two months it has taken me to get this order sorted out. Two months of patient negotiation and liaison, getting two lots of manufacturers and an upholstery retailer all lined up in a row, just to get the right size furniture in a nice fabric that doesn't cost the earth and goes with my carpets and can cope with the dog jumping on it and being shooed off again. Not to mention the pains I took last night to walk the route from street to living room and make sure there were no pitfalls or obstructions for the delivery men when it comes to wrestling several hundred pounds of sofa bed into the house.
So 8:15 sharp and I'm directing them into a safe parking position. For reasons which have yet to be explained, these young men come from deepest Yorkshire and have accents to match - this means, for those not familiar with British regional accents, that they are essentially speaking a foreign language. But I eventually gather that one of them is concerned that the sofa is very heavy. Er, yes, it is. Were you not expecting that?
I walk them through the route to make sure they're happy, and they are very happy to note that we have nice wide doorways to work with. Hurrah! They disappear to set about unloading. There is a pause. The pause goes on for some time. I go to investigate.
It turns out that the sofa is not nearly as heavy as they feared. That's the good news. The bad news is that the reason it is not very heavy is that there is no bed in it, and they are conferring about what to do. This is a sofa non-bed. As it is wrapped in heavy-duty clear polythene I am also able to observe that this sofa non-bed is upholstered in cream linen. Not chocolate moleskin velvet. This is not my sofa. Where is my sofa?
Where is my sofa, Liam? Liam, where is my sofa..? Liiii-aaammm...
Though to be fair, they can hardly be held responsible for what was put on their van. I am still waiting to hear who can...
They didn't believe me. Hauled it up three flights of stairs, struggled for 20 minutes....went back down three flights, around the back of the building and then hoisted it up to the balcony with ropes.
I tried to tell them.
Too bad we can't see the humor of the situation until a few years pass.
Damn it Liam, bring her the right sofa!!!!! 😡
We were furnishing our first own house: we'd gone to a major high street furniture chain (this was before IKEA got going) and ordered almost everything from them, and spent a lot of money for those days. Over the next six months, all told, they got absolutely everything wrong. Everything. Postponing deliveries, sometimes several times over. Turning up without warning when we were out. Not turning up when we'd taken days off work to let them in. Demanding payment, when we'd paid up front already. Bringing the wrong things. Bringing the right things damaged. Bringing the right thing in the wrong colour. Bringing too many. Bringing more instead of taking some away. Bringing another bookcase instead of the sideboard. Not returning calls. Not answering the phone. Brilliantly, once ringing to check that we were happy with our order - I think that was the only time I cried on the phone to them.
Once the last item was at last delivered, I sat down to write a letter of complaint, giving them full details of everything: order numbers, dates, events, just the full history, no embroidery. I concluded by telling them we were outraged with the treatment we had received and (I can hear my mother's voice) would never consider buying from them again. My ex looked over my shoulder and said "what's the point of telling them that? Ask them what they propose as compensation, instead." Good point, I thought; and changed it.
They sent us a cheque for £100, quite a lot of money in those days, and as a final flourish they sent it to the wrong address.
Maybe I'll make a special chocolate cream pie for the staff
We need to have a new contract
Written for all to see
You can write it and we will BOTH sign it
ONCE YOU AND I AGREE
I know that mums incontinent
Its in her notes for all to see
So why isn't it being addressed properly
WHEN I PAY THE BLOODY FEE?
From this day on It will be addressed
With instructions for all to see
And heres a bill for her Terry pants
And my time with disgust to you FROM ME!
No wonder the elderly don't trust "The Help" coming in.
Do you think the movie is why?
I actually hate caring for my mother - there I have said it
I hate the way she thinks its OK for her to treat me like a skivvy
I hate the way she talks down to me in front of her friends
and AND and trust me if I could get a bigger font I would use it she only told the doctor in front of me that I was a useless carer. So the doctor spoke to me and I explained the situation in full with all the issues of dependency etc and she said now lets see how we can help - great I thought at last she will agree to me having some respite before I lose it. She wants me to go to anger management classes!!!!
I was very good - incredibly well behaved. I said I could sort it very quickly without anger management - and how do you intend to do that. I am going to walk away and leave you to do the caring and I promptly gave her a set of house keys and walked out the door.
Then I woke up and realised that dammit I had been dreaming about what I wanted to do!
I fear that anger management cannot help much when there is to be ongoing, justifiable anger in response to a real stressor. Sounds more like a recurring nightmare that needs an immediate solution. dear jude.
Not to bash men, but often they can behave like little puppies and break training.
Guess we will all have to wait for spring.
Men should understand by now we want to just love them, laugh with them, etc.
I love laughing on this thread, but need more ideas on how to be a better brat. I am sure Gershun can help, our expert on acting out.
How bout you, Gershun? Would you rather poop in a diaper, or on a pad?
Its Entitled "Yeah, I wonder Why"
Remember when your jeans all fit
Now it's muffin top & the seams all split
cause our hips don't lie but they sure are wide.
Man they sure are wide
Remember when those sleep lines had a shelf life.
Now they're here for life. On our face reminding us
that we smiled, frowned or just didn't get around to
getting that botox, that cream. Hell, what does it all mean?
Remember getting out of bed with a smile.
Now it takes a while....gotta get those kinks out
Before I can even walk to the john, gotta put my
knee brace on.
Remember when you had an eye crease for your
eyeshadow. Now it's stuck under your flabby eyebrow.
Remember when you had bouncing & behaving hair
Now it's flat & stuck to your head & thin.
You have more hair on your chin
My stomach muscles are out of sight
It just ain't right
Even my knees are flabby
Is that why I feel so crabby?
Thought I'd be happy when my period ended
But now I worry about menopause cause it's got me
bended. On my knees, begging God please
I want to end my life with some ease
Oh please, pretty please, let my life end with ease.
There has never been a time better than today! !Yay!
There has never been a time when my knees could take kneeling down.
Heaven takes brats too, ya know?