Stranded

Because of the recent strand of hurricanes in the Southeast and the Gulf area, the supply of gasoline to the region, mainly Georgia (since it is the largest state east of the Mississippi), has been strained if not cut off entirely. From what I have noticed, nine out of ten gas stations are out of service. I've been able to ride it out for the most part, until tonight. I had a little less than a quarter of a tank when I came to work this morning. I probably should have put a little in either then or on my lunch hour. But I didn't. Mea culpa, mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
I waited in line after work for over 30 minutes at the Kroger station, barely moving, only to find out they had sold all they had. I figured I'd have enough to get home. I was wrong. I probably would have had enough to go home, but it wasn't enough to register with my computerized fuel injection system to start my car. Rats.
I am therefore stuck here at my best friend's house. Not a bad place to be stuck, mind you, but the situation stinks. Oh well...another day, another chance.

The Big Chill

I am getting the cold shoulder from my mother. I suppose I should enjoy it, but it is, to say the least, unnerving. I didn't want to go home after work, so I came to my friend's house, where I was plied with dinner, cheap wine, and promises of a catnap. Yet it has been four hours since I left the office, and not a single call from my mother OR my father trying to findout where I am. I guess since I am 25 years old it shouldn't matter, but I generally let them know where I am. Ever since last night's events, which only got worse after my previous post, I haven't been scrambling for the phone with any eagerness to speak to my mother. Does me not calling her to tell her where I am make me equally guilty?
I guess my reasoning behind this is to show my mom that I'm not the "spoiled, ungrateful little bitch" she seems to think I am. I don't know if she even gets that what she said really hurts. I'm not "given" everything like she says I am. I pay for everything on my own except rent. I buy my own food, pay for my own medical and insurance expenses, and don't cause any trouble. My room may be messy, but I don't bother anyone, and I'm not out getting drunk every night. I have good friends and a halfway decent job that I show up to every day. I generally let both of my parents know where I am and what I'm doing (within reason) each day. I really don't understand why she acts like this toward me. Menopause, perhaps?
Maybe we'll be over it in a few weeks or days, but for right now, I don't really want anything to do with her.

A Fine Line...

My best friend and her fiance are both visiting for a week, and so far I've had a great time. I really, really missed having her around, and I don't feel so...friendless. And they brought two fourteen-week-old shih tzu puppies to boot! Too cute...
All the same, my mom decides she wants to invite them over for dinner tonight, puppies and all. No problem, right? It was very nice idea. Yet, after dinner, she lays into me, telling me I am rude and a bitch, and in short, just plain nasty. Why? Because I wouldn't let her read my email. The email is question was from her sister, letting me know she didn't want me to visit her this year. I'll blog about that bullsh*t later. I told her what the email said, in a nutshell, but because I wouldn't read it to her, word for word, she says I'm a bitch. All of this with my friends within earshot. I clammed up. I figured it would be better not to say anything at all rather than be truly disrespectful to her, especially not in front of others. Usually she doesn't start picking on me until my friends leave. That didn't really change either, because as soon as the door shut after I showed them out, she started again, telling me I "have a real problem" and that she just doesn't understand what is wrong with me. So after I ironed my father's shirts for the week, I went to bed, with her making remarks as I am walking up the stairs. She even accused me of being upset because she invited my friends over, as if I were jealous or something. I could care less who asked them over; I was glad to have them there. I just knew that if I said anything I would only make it worse.
So it's a Catch-22 then?

Vices

This is bad. Really bad. I can't stop thinking about food. The more I think about exercising and eating better, cutting back on my intake, etcetera, the more I think about FOOD. Then when I think about food, I get cravings. I love watching Travel Channel and Food Network, and while that doesn't necessarily drive me directly to a craving attack, it does put the food on the brain.
I know I can do this, but why does my mind have to work against me?