Home again. Home. AGAIN.

I got up at 6am to drive Carl to work. The buses don't start running until noonish and why call a cab when I'm here. Dropped him off and went home. I had no intention of going back to bed -- it was an hour and a half or so before it was time to get ready for church, and I had some things to catch up on from last week. Got settled, started my work, and then the phone rang.

It was Carl.

"They had too many people in, so they asked me if I wanted the day off. Come get me?"

OH, I was mad, on so many levels. This is the second Sunday in a row he's taken off, both times for stupid reasons. Why couldn't he have said no when they asked him if he wanted the day off? And of course, nothing I have to do at home is important, all I have to do all day is run my ass back and forth for him. Just so he can come home, take out his dentures, throw on his robe & pj's and lounge in front of the tv, taking occasional breaks for coffee and smokes? And naps, of course. Mustn't forget the naps. And of course, if I should happen to vary MY schedule and be off during the day, oh, that's different. I'm invading his fucking precious space and disrupting his routine. But somehow it's supposed to be a great treat for him to be hanging around the house cramping my style when all I want is a day to myself when I'm not feeling like shit. And then his "normal" weekend is tomorrow and Tuesday anyway. He offered to switch with anyone who wanted the day off on Tuesday, but no one will take him up on it. Nobody ever does. I now get paid for days off, provided I don't take more than 5 and provided I announce them in advance. But he doesn't get paid unless he works. I'm so sick of being poor. But every time I talk about getting a second job, he protests. "I don't see enough of you," he says.

I don't share the sentiment.

So, how do I show my wrath? Well, first I almost wrecked the car going way too fast on the interstate when it had started to pour rain. I slowed down ... When I picked His Highness up I demanded that he put gas in the car, since it had already started getting low with all these trips I've been making for him. Then he asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day and instead of giving him the usual "Oh, I don't care..." crap, I said "I need money. Put some in my account." He agreed readily. Good. But I still ought to kick his ass out once and for all. One day I believe I will.

Mother FUCKING slacker.

My father NEVER missed a day of work in 25 years. Not even when he'd spent the entire weekend getting shitfaced.