I even forget my own rules.

Specifically, the one about assuming my mother has anything resembling logic or reason.

She bought another white bulldog.


Yeah. You heard me.
Snowflake’s been gone less than a week, and… well, Pigeon demonstrates his amazing powers of seeing the future.

Gently mentioning “isn’t this a bit too soon?” sailed right over mother’s head. And then some, as her response is more like a kick in both the face and the pants: “I missed having a little female wandering around.”

I… um… wow.
I don’t know whether to be greatly offended at the confirmation that I really don’t matter anymore (and believe me, I really don’t need to feel any more alone and abandoned than I already do), or just disgusted at how completely unreasonable the whole situation is.

Mother was laughing off Octomom on the news. WTF. Does my mother not get that she’s the bulldog version of Nadya Suleman?

In other news, on Tuesday I slipped in the shower. My tankiness worked in my favor for the most part since it was more “roll” than “fall” but my upper left arm has a giant-ass bruise from having plowed into the trash can, and that’s pretty much kept me out of volunteer service for at least this week… hopefully it dies down by next week. Sore as hell. Ow.

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