Piinnnch...here comes another sharp prick at the corner of my forehead.

How convenient that the discomforting throbs only show up when there are bad news or events to be had. If that's the case, my life is just one long ticker full of miserable headlines. No wonder my stocks are down.

Ding.
Would you like a turn on the elevator?
Going down.
You say that's not where you're headed?
Oops, too bad. You don't have a return ticket.
Thanks for taking the ride to purgatory.
Ha, ha, ha, Sucker.

So, what has brought the thumpity-thump to my sanity this week?!

For a while now, another famber (my word for a family member) has been in a slump. (Yep, I seem to have more of them than oxygen molecules in my midst.) Actually, to be honest, he's been in the pits for years...years of no work, no plans, no movement since he's been out of school. Other than the all-important television and video games, he doesn't have any other personal savings. In a nutshell, he's a bum (whether he wanted to be one or not).

Most likely not. And not that he hadn't tried to avoid the present circumstances in the beginning. But, somewhere along the way, the steady will to even peruse through the classifieds ads began to flicker with disappointments until he became one with his bed.

Experience wanted:
Experience he hasn't got. Experience he doesn't want to get, if it means starting at the very bottom of the totem pole on his own.

Granted, sometimes I wonder if we could have treated him differently, motivated him to get more involved in society, given him better role models, and (as the old folks would spit) make him a man rather than let him act like a boy. Sigh. Happy belated birthday. You think you can blow out your candles, or do you need help with that?

Tick, tock, back to the present we go...

Like many people, keeping on top of all the financial responsibilities have been challenging, especially since it's not of mine alone that I have to tackle. Cutting jobs, cutting budgets, cutting space in many sectors have meant rethinking how we live. No wonder it's not surprising to hear families consolidating households in order to make ends meet.

More stupidly, you forget why fambers moved out to live on their own in the first place. And, soon enough (and faster than a speeding bullet), the new motto becomes: "Get me out of here!!!"

Ugh, the tantrums they throw! Where's the gratitude?! Where's the realistic grasp?!

What they want is constant smiles painted on faces, as if we're living the Brady Bunch's Sunshiny Life. And, oh my gosh, the hell that breaks loose if one of us speaks our mind or don't speak at all. Hey, Bum! Do you seriously believe everyone's going to put in an endless effort to make conversations so that you feel better, and dish out your dinner all the time?! We're not a Hallmark film with a happy wrap-up. Bitching happens. Deal with it. And while you are at it, why don't you help out once in a while without having to be told specifically?

Nada.

Instead, here I am being bombarded with the accusations that everything's my fault. My fault for living in a crappy, cold house. (Hey, do you know how expensive the utility bill is?!) My fault for bringing him in to live in the crappy, cold house. (Hmmm...would you have been able to afford another place?! Be glad the rent is cheap, especially since you aren't paying any.) And my fault for not getting him out of the crappy, cold house. (Let's go over the previous sentence one more time. The place may be in need of complete overhaul and remodeling, but who is actually bringing home the dough here?! I ain't your personal bank account. You should be grateful that you have, at least, a warm bed and food.)

Rien x 2. Forget about the pity that crept up on me for Bum's downright station.

And all because someone insisted that he wash his own dishes when they hit the sink rather than letting them sit for awhile. True, the other person didn't had to make such a big deal out of this particular, small infraction. Overboard reaction. But any bubbling frustration is liable to cause an individual to act before they think, especially when one doesn't pull the same weight as the other.

So silly as it may sound, my troubles compound over the tiff of two spoons and plates.

"If you want to leave, then you can go anytime. No one's holding you back. Just don't expect other people to pay for your finances," I finally declare, my patience bending.

"Then you should have left me at [the place I was living at before]," he yells. "Why did you bring me here? You said I could leave if I didn't like it here. So get me out of here, now!!!"

Hello?! You were living with someone else, and she was the one making all the payments. And now she's struggling too. That's why you had to move. If we won the lotto, then we might be able to pay your rent and expenses. But we can't right now. And this is where we are at. No one's stopping you from getting out of here. But don't also assume that I will be shelling out the money so that you can live in carefree luxury.

Punch.

And there I glimpse another hole in the wall. Flimsy, unlike the hard-heads'. No need for a hammer and unseen voices for Bum. A mere good old-fashioned I-wish-but-I-can't reaction moment. And, don't you know, I'm running short on plaster boards. Again. At this rate, the house will look like a block of Swiss cheese.

Can my week get any worse?!

To be continued...