My Mother And Thanksgiving
She was in the best mood this morning. I go to the gym, go get coffee, go buy food to make stuff for thanksgiving. And then I get back and she is still in a great mood: “come try this thing I made,” etc. And she’s all talking about how excited for thanksgiving she is. Anyways, I’m supposed to make us breakfast and when I do, the smoke alarm goes off because I’m using a cast iron and the old shit on it causes it to smoke. Instantly, she’s in a terrible mood. Then I ask her where the wire whisk is to whisk the eggs for her fucking pancakes, and she is even more angry now because I couldn’t find it. Now she’s completely silent in the other room and when I’m done, she eats like two bites and spends half of the time eating trying to clean the maple syrup container at the sink. Comes back, finishes it, and goes and washes dishes and shit. Meanwhile, she’s saying nothing other than one sentence fragment responses to every question I ask… which I know is an indication that she is really mad. So I don’t know what the fuck I did, but I was in such a great mood this morning, and I literally do nothing—n o t h i n g—wrong and her reaction to everything I’ve been doing makes me want to cut her neck open with a carving knife. I fucking hate it. I hate people who are passive aggressive. I hate her because she is fucking unstable and probably bipolar. It’s also why I hate my sister. People say men subconsciously look for women like their mothers to marry. I’d rather die alone.