I really have to stop over thinking things.

I went to my moms for Christmas. It was loverly and sweet to be with her. Even though it was awful in so many ways. Like in the sense that her husbands son is a 50 year old malevolent asshole who mutters disrespectful things about my mom just a bit to quietly for his dad to hear. He thinks he loves her, he thinks she is cheating on his dad, he wishes it was with him. He is a foul useless piece and I had to be nice to him. Well tolerate him anyway. I think I got a B. I'm big into grades.

Then we cooked. And argued about what made healthy food. She argues she eats well. She is wrong. She is getting older and she need hip surgery and blah blah. I hate seeing that. It makes me sad, both for her and for me. I am like her. I take care of everyone else but never myself. I am learning to be better. I just wish she would.

Oh, and she has seven spring form pans. 7. Like for cheesecake. SEVEN. It boggles the mind. Two food dehydrators. Three toasters. Seventeen lids for her fourteen pots. Two kitchens. She isn't a professional cook. They are not heirlooms. Only two people live in her house. I have no explanation. The stupid thing is that this house is actually a smaller one than the other one she owns. That one has three kitchens. Too much shit. It is embarrassing. Conspicuous consumption.

So I come home and need to purge. Every nook and cranny. Do I need it, use it, love it? Ugh. Even my tiny little house has too much shit. It's true that I only have the one spring board pan, but I have never used it. In ten years. I can't seem to get rid of it though. Someday I might use it. I MIGHT be the kind of woman who bakes cheesecakes. I MIGHT have that kind of time. I MIGHT be able to have that much junk food in my house. I won't. I know that. It is an ideal. A life I want to have.

I wonder if that is why she has 7. I wonder what kind of life that means she hopes for. Great. Now I'm all sad again. Anyways. I will start blogging again. The remodel is almost done. Pics and posts of that later. Like maybe tomorrow. If I don't suck. Or get drunk.