Mom-cation, all I ever wanted

My Mom-cation of this past weekend was so short — too short — but so very lovely.

The weather was crappy yesterday — gray and, ultimately, super-rainy. I headed home early so that my friend could have her lovely apartment to herself when she came home from the airport.

See, that’s something I miss about having my freedom — coming home to a quiet, empty apartment.

When I got home, oddly enough, the Ultra Extra Over-Extended Houseguest was nowhere to be found. A dear friend advised me, “Masturbate and call the locksmith!” LOL.

If only it were that easy to call the locksmith. I was willing to pay the double-time for a Sunday, plus a convenience charge for making them swim to my house in the pouring rain. I also would happily have kicked in extra for them to bring my groceries up to the house, as I got SOAKED trying to drag my cat food and yogurt into the building!

The UEOEH and I got into it this morning. She tried to reserve me for Friday night to take her out to dinner. The drive is a pain in the ass; it’s a restaurant I don’t particularly care for, and guess what? I already made plans with my friend — and we SPLIT THE BILL!!!

So, WHY would I want to take UEOEH out at her command?

I’d slept in Friday. My alarm re-set itself during the night. (I swear, I’d checked it twice before I went to sleep.) So as I was flying around like the Tasmanian Devil to get ready, she stops me and says, “Oh, are you off today?” I asked what does she care. “So we can do something together!” she exclaimed.

Now, for three years, she has assumed she can claim any weekend day, day off or evening. That I would be THRILLED to spend any of my free time with her. Uh, PLEASE.

Sometimes I get charitable and do it wordlessly. But once my friend moved to town — with whom I have SO MUCH MORE FUN — I realize I don’t HAVE to babysit anymore.

It still costs me the same, maybe more, as I always have to make sure princess has an allowance so she can eat. As that’s her usual guilt-trip schtick — “I’M HUNGRY!”

She did not “get” why I was away this weekend — to be ALONE and FAR AWAY from her. To recapture my lost youth as a single apartment-dweller.

So today after she commanded my Friday night, I said simply, “Why?”

The answer, unsurprisingly, “BECAUSE I’M HUNGRY.”

And after being told by my boss last week that I am entirely too accommodating (this was work-related, though), I said, “Well, aren’t YOU demanding?”

She was dumbfounded and repeated it. I could just see the little hamster in her brain, waking up and plotting to tell her useless friends — using the phone I paid for as well as the minutes that are on my tab — what a bitch I am. How she’s SO NICE and I’m SO MEAN.

I wasn’t about to be told I was mean. (Again. For the eleventy billionth time in four years.)

I said, look, it’s time you made me a list — a written-out, detailed list — of everything you need to move out. Instead of just telling me that I don’t help and I suck and I’m mean, just write out in exact terms what it is I have to do to get my apartment back by Dec. 31.

I said that this is the only way we can salvage what’s left of this relationship. It isn’t working … it hasn’t BEEN working … and isn’t four years of this shit enough for either one of us to take?

In usual Cleopatra (Denial) fashion, she decided to compliment my shirt and ask to see it. (As I was trying to hide in my bathroom with the door cracked open ’cause it’s HOT in there.) I said no and go away. She does that all the time — wants to see whatever’s new. So she can borrow it, no doubt. Or, because SHE doesn’t get anything new.

I’m not claiming to be better or worse or anything — I work hard for my money. Sometimes. I treat myself to new (and mostly cheap) stuff. I don’t need a fucking parade to commemorate each occasion.

And besides, it was like our earlier conversation had never happened. Like thousands of similar conversations before it.

Every time I remind myself that I don’t have it too bad in life, she flares up and I go through the roof. And as we know, my landlady refuses to patch the roof — just paint over the wet spots — and it’s rainy season and I cannot AFFORD to have a hole in the ceiling right now!!!

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