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Oh, I see. Leave at 4 PM to be a 15-minute drive away by 5:30? I guess that's why I'm late to stuff, I don't see the why?

No clue.

But I totally see why you'd want someone a tad more, um, non-insane to deal with. (I mean that in the best possible way.)

Oh, I know what you meant, trust me.

Mostly it's being annoyed with the same ol' rigamorole: we'll help you (even though you didn't ask, because when you do ask we stammer around and never give you a clear yes or no), here's some completely irrational conditions....see, this is why we never help you, we are always willing but you are sooooo hard to deal with....

She acted put out that I didn't think this plan (that I didn't ask her to come up with) didn't make me fall to my knees and thank the heavens above for such a wonderful mother, who would offer me such glorious things and spare me the pain of searching for another daycare (which I'm trying to avoid in the first place).

And oh yes, let's just all forget that I had to drop everything and find THIS daycare back last year on a whim because she suddenly thought that Little Sis watching the baby in her presence was "too much to deal with" because how in the world does that have anything to do with her current offer to watch him now, all by herself, after getting up early to take my sister's children to their bus stop?

It doesn't, you ungrateful wench.

<sigh> I think it's just a cummulative effect, now. No one thing is overwhelmingly annoying, but the little things just tip me over the edge. I was so annoyed/angry/amused the day I came back to their house to find my Suburban in their driveway (instead of legally parked on the street where I left it) when Little Sis was still watching Leroy Jethro because they thought it might get hit (despite years of my parking other vehicles there safely), AND a voicemail from my father saying hey, it's leaking oil all over the driveway!, AND a voicemail (second total, for those keeping count) from my mother saying something was wrong with the steering "'cause it turns funny".

I laughed and cried and got all red faced on the way home and I thought T might lock me in the bedroom, just opening the door long enough to toss in wine and chocolate. Because DAMN. Really? Then they acted all "why aren't you parking at our house any longer?" and I was all "GAK:DUSFLE!" and T said oh, that's OK, we worked out a way to leave it at home and not need two cars in the evening and then we parked it at the grocery store in their neighborhood instead. And he felt the crazy like I felt finally, but, like me, cannot adequately explain it to those that have not witnessed it first hand.

It's hard because they don't know why I'm suddenly all "GAH YOU PEOPLE" in their presence, and it's just so hard to explain. It's made worse because they mean well. Well-meaning people just do some really awful things sometimes.

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