On this stormy, blustery day I can’t help but think about something so close yet so far away; warm, fabulous, care-free Summer.
So far I have a cruise planned, three trips home, 4th of July debauchery and hopefully a Europe trip (I might be delusional about the Europe thing, but I’m using ‘The Secret’ tactic where you say it’s true and then it becomes true like science). Therefore, I’m going to Europe in August.
I’m also hoping my job gets “absorbed” (that’s what my company is calling it now since “severed” sounded too severe.) by June so I can hang poolside all month.
After the Europe trip I have no plans, no agenda, no idea. And I feel pretty great about that.
My mom wants me to get knocked up and make Preston deal with my lack of resources, but I’m pretty sure I would rather die first. Nothing against Preston, it’s more the trick pregnancy for financial gain thing I have a problem with. But hey, it’s a different generation, right? In the 80’s that was acceptable and how I’m pretty sure my brother and I came to be.
Bailey, I know you are cringing at the irrelevance of this e-mail, and for that I apologize. I just want to make sure you two are fully aware of my summer plans so you can plan accordingly. How am I funding said Summer? Also irrelevant (‘The Secret’). Moving on to more relevant things.
I’m dealing with the drama of my Dad’s relationship with his girlfriend of over 7 years, Suz, who has become crucial to the family dyanmic and it’s causing me more stress than I can deal with.
The fight is about how he and my mom have an inappropriate friendship (they totally do) and Suz has had enough. My parent’s have been married and divorced to each other twice and have never really severed their feelings for or dependency on each other. They live two minutes away and keep in touch pretty regularly. When I put myself is Suz’ shoes, I would have had enough, too.
I made the mistake of telling Dad all of these things and that my brother agrees. Now everybody is mad at me. They raised me to be this way, how could they be mad? I’m opinionated, meddling and needy and am pretty sure those qualities are a product of nurture, not nature. They should be mad at themselves for rasing me to be so tenaciously caring.
Plotting ways to fund my impossible summer travel and manipulate my family in to loving me again (ah yes, ‘The Secret’ yet again),