I want to kill him. At this moment, right now, I can't take it. Yes, I CAN take it and I will continue to take it as long as everything properly falls into place, but this morning, about 15 minutes ago, I completely lost it. Actually, correction, I held it in enough to walk out on the deck and try to cool off and also enough that I didn't march into the library and yell at my Dad.
Here's a little background - Dad somehow thinks a kitchen sink is like a garbage can. Things that he wants to get rid of, go in or near the sink. I can't explain this. I have two kitchen sinks. The one on the right has a dish drainer. I've told him REPEATEDLY that the right-hand sink is where I keep clean dishes that are drying. And yet today, again, for about the 25th time, he dumped his leftover coffee in the right sink. Leftover coffee that I knew he would dump out when I poured it for him. Coffee he only wanted because he got up at 6:15 am for some God-knows-what reason. Coffee that, besides going all over my clean dishes, spilled out onto the countertop as well and sat there.
I was putting away dishes and didn't notice it at first. Then I grabbed a supposedly clean dish and looked into that right-hand sink.
Coffee, everywhere.
I. Completely. Lost. It.
If my daughter weren't still sleeping, I think I would have screamed. I held back slightly only so my Mom wouldn't absorb the guilt of the situation. (Earlier this morning I asked her to make sure Dad didn't slam doors because our daughter was still sleeping. I realized too late that Mom would now obsess about this and then feel bad. Mom feels bad about EVERYTHING.) The most I could do was throw a sponge. Hubby told me to go upstairs and he'd finish up. I ignored him. I needed to clean it up and brood a bit more.
The coffee isn't the only offending "sink invader." Dad is addicted to ice cream bars. (I buy him "no sugar added" bars that won't spike his blood sugar too much.) For some reason, he takes off the wrapper and throws it in the sink. I'm sorry but WTF?! How hard is it to open the garbage that's right next to the sink? He does this because he KNOWS that somebody else will pick up his crap. To be perfectly honest, I'm really getting pissed off about picking up his crap. Seriously.
Look, I know what you're thinking. He's got dementia. Give him a break. Here's what I'm thinking: It's dementia, not a learning disability. Because he's 81 and is mentally compromised, I should let him be a complete self-centered slob? I'm sorry, but no. I'm not buying it. I've been applying buckets of compassion to this situation but here today, I completely lost my shit. Yep, I said it.
My Mom can't see anything and yet she walks around as pleasant and sweet and flexible as anybody in the entire world. If there's anyone that has a right to be self-centered, it's Mom. She can't even see her own face in the morning, for God's sake. And yet instead of thinking about herself, she caters to Dad. Yes, she created that dementia-addled, wonky-walking, self-centered animal. But I'll be damned if I'm going to put up with his crap.
OK, thanks. I feel better now.
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