Mum’s The (Trigger) Word

It’s great fun when you have a mental wobble that pretty much comes out of nowhere.

I did, last night, over the prospect of going to my mum’s and oiling her decking. Which is most definitely not a euphemism, but is something that the people that installed the decking should have done but decided not to because of rain or some bollocks. The people that did mum’s decking – though they are good at what they do – are the masters of unfinished business. They make the amount of half done stuff around our house, that we have done, look small.

So, yeah, there was upset. Swearing. Tears. No sleep.

All over some bloody decking.

I don’t even pretend to understand it. I don’t even know where to start.

Looking after mum’s stuff is a massive job. It is. We can barely maintain one house, let alone two. And sometimes it just feels like it’s an overwhelming thing just looming over us. And it feels like we get all the shitty jobs to do and mum’s other associates get the fun stuff. And it’s frustrating as hell.

Which, apparently, came roaring out of me yesterday. On top of being hot, sweaty and uncomfortable from work. And annoyed because I missed the bus and was stuck in town for an hour because I stubbornly refused to pay extra bus fare. So it’s essentially my own fault, but hey ho. It all added to the mix.

A lot of it, I think, is that I feel like I’m letting dad down. Dad was shit hot about stuff. Although having said that, he never treated the decking he laid which is why it went rotten and his favourite son kept falling through it, leading to the need for new stuff. But other than that he was shit hot about stuff. But stuff is running away from us. And if I stop to think about it all it hurts me head.

Mum thinks it’s because I see her as my responsibility. And I do. She is. I’m the one who’s closest. I’m the one she phones when she doesn’t know which way round a battery goes or where the “Yes” button is on her TV remote control. So yeah, I do feel like she’s my responsibility. And I feel like I’m letting her down as well by being generally hopeless with stuff.

And then there’s Carole. She has spent all day oiling decking with my mum. While I haven’t. Because I only got about three hours sleep last night and was meh when I woke up. Sometimes I hate being a slave to my brain chemistry. It really buggers me up. And other times I’m fine. Today was definitely a not fine day.

Carole’s done all this and come back aching and sunburnt and sweaty and I’ve spent the day feeling guilty that I wasn’t involved in it all. I mean, luckily I was at home to accept two deliveries for Carole and two for nice next door, so I have played a part in proceedings but not where my responsibilities should lie. I have guilty cleaned the bathroom and kitchen to within an inch of their lives. And then even more guiltily ordered Carole some ice creams that she really loves, abusing Amazon Now’s two hour delivery slots for that very purpose.

I still feel crap about not chipping in today.

I need to get my head straight and get shit done.

How I do that, though, is another matter entirely….