So probably the last time I posted was the last full moon . . . .

I've missed this site and ones like it. After running on empty awhile I ran on fumes, and then I just stilled inside. This is the first urge I've had to write in a month.

I've poured everything into my kids and work . . . and the ID channel after everyone's asleep. It keeps my outer mind busy while my inner mind is working away at figuring out how to solve things, change things. No matter how many hours a day I work, the workload is like mutant rabbits that bear innumerable cancerous offspring who feed and devour themselves yet still somehow grow, multiply . . . never stopping. It feels like an alien world. And there is no escape because it follows me into my nightmares.

My husband is doing a usual thing with a small difference. My car is often commandeered now because it is an automatic (pee is accumulating driving hours), while my husband's (a lover of old Saabs, what true psychologist is not? Yes, psychologists are a statistically significant population of Saab owners) is a stick shift. And his car broke down on the highway tonight after work. What man makes it home on time when his car breaks down? Mine : ) pee is driving my car as he is making half assed attemps to get his license. Half assed meaning he places demands like sign me up for behind the wheel, arrange behind the wheel without knowing my schedule and without my telling you my schedule even after you asked me multiple times and then I castigate you because I didn't have my license on my sixteenth birthday as I say you promised me but you never did actually promise me that because you don't have control over my actions but my sick and deranged psycho birth mother built that up in my mind and just two days ago sent me another weird sick letter asking me if I had achieved my dream of earning my driver's license on my sixteenth birthday- whew. And when princess pipes in from across the river, I get to punch holes in the walls of my stepmother's house because I feel like it. So, behind the wheel is paid for, the first of the three scheduled driving sessions take place ("How was it?" "fun"), and no follow through on the last two.

He's driving my car home after letting pee drive it a friend's house so we could all have some fucking space from one another this weekend.

Scathing texts inspired by priness from her apartment pad that his dad doesn't follow through on anything, procrastinates 'like no one on this earth' and DEMANDS for a car. That'll be the day, baby driver, that you get a car now.

princess texted her dad this morning, only second time since she moved out (LLLLLLAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!! - with vibrato). She was quite conciliatory for some unnamed thing, hmmm, could it be that she was a wee bit worried her working on pee last night would result in a consequence involving her upcoming birthday? She wants to grace us with a visit, introduce us to her new boyfriend (she thinks we'll really like him) and, oh by the way, maybe we could have my stupid monster truck looked at? It's shaking, there are lights on, blah blah. He said, no, have to set her straight on that. Yeah.

My interpretation of last night is this: pee has been largely fine since she moved out, becoming gradually more social, flashing a smile now and then. Went out to really look at the snow fort my boys were so proud of building. We offered him her old room, tactfully of course. My husband framed it as, you know, it's good for princess to keep her lease over the summer, she's applied for jobs there, etc. (princess is full of bullshit on the applying for work deal. I'm a Ph.D. (piling it higher and deeper : ) ) from a background that went from white collar to blue collar when the economy tanked in the 70s. I've just never known anyone like princess who actually believes that she should absolutely be enabled to exist without responsibility. Rent? Insurance? Car payment? Cell phone bill? Groceries? - what language are you assaulting my ears with??? Let me whisper here, princess, softly . . . REALITY. Oooh, sigh.
Anyway, he framed it as this is a good thing for princess, and here's this cool pad in the basement.

Nope, pee wanted it to remain a shrine to princess, he wants to deny that princess is not coming back here. I have looked my husband in the eye and said to him that if he allows her back here, ever, I will move out. I will abandon the house I fought for with all my reserves during my divorce without a single glance backward because I will never subject my boys or myself to princess's ministries. Never again. He said, "I believe you." The cool room is being returned to its orginal state, a toy room : )

princess has been silent for the most part since moving out, blessed be. Last night pee was fine until about 10:00. Then giant noises from his room, my husband goes in, more holes in the wall. pee yelling at my husband to get out, sending inaccurate texts that my husband does not do anything for him, he puts my kids first. My husband addressed him straight on. pee began texting me. I responded to his content and was accurate about my husband, i.e., my husband has followed through with each thing he can do to make his license happen, his clothes happen, etc. pee, if you tell hiim that you will only go clothes shopping with your friends or princess, he has no power over your friends blowing you off, painfully, weekend after weekend. He can help you finance the clothes but he can't make your friends want to spend time with you.

Ah, how I digress.

Back to point, princess got her hooks in him last night, she stirred his pot. We did not know whether there had been contact with her at all last night, she dropped him like a hot potato after she didn't need him for her daily machinations around the house. He has had to beg for one weekend night at her apartment since she moved out. I felt horrible for him and I hate her.

His reward for tantruming last night, punching more holes in the wall, calling his father an idiot? An invitation to spend the weekend with her, sigh.

pee was called on his shit, made to patch each hole, face his father and me. He does not know we know princess's hand was at work behind this. princess will get a special dessert for this, she must have some inkling on the level of the cosmos, hence her idiotic offerings to her father, gee, I'll let you spend time with me, meet my latest patsy fuck, let you bring my car in and pay for it. Seriously, princess? Think again little girl.

You know, there's always a prince for things, oops, meant a price. Everyone has to face her or himself. Usually it's not a whole lot of fun. Usually it's stark.