I’m off kilter.
Today, I read about these little earthquakes in California, and I checked to see how close to my parents they were. (They were 60 miles away). I’ve never been to my parents California house. They moved a couple years ago without telling me. Part of me always wants to give them a ring or shoot them an email saying: “Hey, if you need help, let me know.”
But I’ve been there, done that, and I don’t have the constitution for the hate-laden filth that my father shoots my way when I’m the current Evil Focus of his Borderline Personality Disorder.
Maggie and I are having a little tiff. I feel justified in my reactions and position, but that’s not going to make the situation any BETTER, is it.