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I busted m'boy's chops yesterday morning about the toddleresque trail of mess he leaves all over my little lake place, and I got him to clean it up. There may have been raised voices and flying saliva at him when he said taking out the recycling is "my job". (I thought he meant throwing away his little bits of trash, but no matter.)
So I was a little relieved when he left my place before I did. We'd talked about him going to his mother's, so that's where I assumed he was headed. I was wrong, natch.
He was unreachable for the rest of the day because, as so often, he'd forgotten to charge his phone. I figured he was home watching news videos & wiki-surfing as usual. Ex became worried sick. Icing: last night was Lambert House, so I couldn't get back until 2130, even though Ex's texts prompted me to scram right after trans group.
This time, I was right: there he was on the bed with his laptop, with the blinds drawn even though it wasn't quite dark yet. I let his mother do the novel rectum installation - using my charged phone. She tells me he's been blowing off taking his anti-anxiety meds at night, which is why he hasn't been sleeping well, which leads to a host of other punky behaviors.
He doesn't want to take the meds because... why? I can only speculate that it's his usual reluctance to admit to anyone, including himself, that he has a problem and might be unlike most other people. Is it possible to forcibly insert sense into someone? If so, through which orifice does it go? Do I need to make a new one?
I'm ashamed to admit that Ex caught this & I didn't. I trusted him, as he's always whining at me to do, and for the gazillionth time he let me down.
Happy thotz: I'm wearing thong underwear for the first time in my life and leggings with blatant lesbian symbolism for what might possibly be a first date. Or it might just be mending. Either way, they're perfect.
So I was a little relieved when he left my place before I did. We'd talked about him going to his mother's, so that's where I assumed he was headed. I was wrong, natch.
He was unreachable for the rest of the day because, as so often, he'd forgotten to charge his phone. I figured he was home watching news videos & wiki-surfing as usual. Ex became worried sick. Icing: last night was Lambert House, so I couldn't get back until 2130, even though Ex's texts prompted me to scram right after trans group.
This time, I was right: there he was on the bed with his laptop, with the blinds drawn even though it wasn't quite dark yet. I let his mother do the novel rectum installation - using my charged phone. She tells me he's been blowing off taking his anti-anxiety meds at night, which is why he hasn't been sleeping well, which leads to a host of other punky behaviors.
He doesn't want to take the meds because... why? I can only speculate that it's his usual reluctance to admit to anyone, including himself, that he has a problem and might be unlike most other people. Is it possible to forcibly insert sense into someone? If so, through which orifice does it go? Do I need to make a new one?
I'm ashamed to admit that Ex caught this & I didn't. I trusted him, as he's always whining at me to do, and for the gazillionth time he let me down.
Happy thotz: I'm wearing thong underwear for the first time in my life and leggings with blatant lesbian symbolism for what might possibly be a first date. Or it might just be mending. Either way, they're perfect.
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Date: 2016-05-11 02:09 am (UTC)From:It's been my experience that most people, within about six months of when they start living on their own, learn why tidiness is important. But I know a number of people who never got that, and hoo boy.