Seven Minutes

I told Daughter yesterday afternoon that I hoped she was going to do her share around here, but I wasn't going to assign her specific chores because I didn't want her to start arguing with me. So, she came home yesterday and wrote down a list of things she was going to do around the house, not just to earn money, but because she wanted to share the work, or so she said. I looked over the list and told her I thought it was a bit more than she could handle, but that I was glad she wanted to work and to go ahead and get started. I was busy doing laundry. She went upstairs with a bag, I suspect to clean out the litter box, and then came back downstairs and sat down and watched me sort and fold the whites. I told her if she wasn't going to work, she needed to go to her room, she wasn't going to sit around watching me work (which just causes my blood pressure to go up and results in me eventually saying unhelpful things).

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When I went upstairs a little bit later to put some of her clothes away, she was in her room with a stack of DVD's watching her portable DVD player. I took the DVD player away. If you aren't going to help, you aren't going to have access to electronics. I was called names and told that I had no right to keep her from the one true love of her life. She came downstairs and demanded her cell phone, telling me I had no right to keep it from her. I explained to her that she didn't have to work, but if she didn't work, she wasn't going to have access to things like cell phones and DVD players, as they cost money, and when you don't work, you don't have money. She threatened to call the police. I said that was fine. She disappeared upstairs with the land line and the phone book.

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When she came back downstairs she'd changed her clothes. She was wearing stretch pants and a camisole. She headed out the front door. I asked where she was going, and she announced she was going to Town. I asked how she was going to get there, fearful that she had found someone willing to come pick her up, and she announced that she was walking. It's 11 miles to Town. I said it would be a long walk. She said she didn't care. I told her I'd see her when she got back.

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She was gone 7 minutes. I decided I'd best time it in case she got far enough that I needed to go looking for her or report her missing. She came back in and shouted, "I hate it when you're right!" and returned to her bedroom. When I made her come downstairs for evening pills and insulin, I informed her that she could only wear one outfit a day. Since she wasn't helping out, I didn't want her creating extra laundry that I have to wash. She's still asleep. I'm not going to wake her up. I'm going to enjoy the calm before the storm begins.

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Obviously, she's not in a good place. My own patience has reached its limits. I am feeling slightly overwhelmed by all that I need to get done. Having her in Adult Daycare is expensive both financially and in terms of my time. I'm going to set my priorities for the day and work at not getting sucked into her drama. It will be a challenge, to say the least.