Back Day 5: Behinder

Note: Some of this entry was written on Friday the eighth, but circumstances and general ineptitude kept me from finishing and posting until now. Will segregate thoughts by double-posting. Text actually written on the eighth is in italics.

Well, the weekend has barely begun and I've already managed to get off on the wrong foot with The Mother. I must have said something wrong about moving boxes or not had enough zest for the already-planned-out-tasks because discord abounds. I took it upon myself as penance to move the big table downstairs back into the laundry room, but when I told her I had, she didn't even react. Frankly, I was kind of pissed. She was probably angry that I didn't wait for her, but that doesn't really fly with me. I did something above and beyond and then didn't get any recognition for it. It's as if we can't see eye to eye to save our lives when it comes to everyday tasks. Harrumph.

Speaking of The Mother, I brought home the jacket T gave me and before I even had it all the way on, she was disapproving of it. "It's too small," was the first comment. "It's like They're trying to make you into something..." she said next (after I protested the previous sentence; quote may be approximate) and I finished her thought, "...that I'm not.". I don't think that's true. I've had in my mind what I would like to wear to be more fashionable for a long time now, and what T and FREd and have bought for me definitely is in line with that within reason. Again, this is likely to be another topic she and I will simply never agree upon.

I forgot to mention on Thursday that the Dumbass had offered up his opinion of my facial hair, saying that he preferred it when it was shorter and trimmed up more. I wonder what made him think I valued his opinion. Seriously. I just nodded and smiled I think. His audacity never ceases to stun me.

Becky came over, quite unexpectedly, to tell me that she did not pass her last exam (must have been DP; I am so out of touch with the exam process, and frankly, I'm fine with that). She seemed to be taking it well. In a vein similar to that above, I wonder what made her think that I was interested in knowing. She and I are not really *that* close. <shrugs> I'd rather talk to her than the Dumbass any day, though, that's for certain. She offered up an interesting perspective when she said that it's not really a race. Whether you take four years or fourteen, the designation you end up with is still the same. It's not entirely true (the superstars who pass every exam on the first attempt get noticed and rewarded, whether you admit that to yourself or not), but it still functions as a salve for one's bruised ego. I told her to go out and party over the weekend (I'm such a bad influence). Regardless, I'll still end up reporting to her someday. Ha.