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Language Log

Thursday, Mar. 23, 2006 - 8:23 p.m.

I was having a pretty good day today, I think my mother sensed that, and called me to put a stop to it.

She wants to sell her place and move into a mobile home, because she's broke. Now, my faithful, attentive readers will know why she is broke these days...but anyway, she actually said, "why don't you finance you're mother's house, you're a professor now" as if she was joking, but I don't think she was. Well, this was painful for several reasons. First, the woman does not ask for money. Ever. Second, she thinks I have money. I was like, mom, I'm a graduate student, I make $950 a month, and that's only during the school year. And then the clincher? "Well, that's more than I make."

I could just scream.

It continually amazes me how she has this knack of pissing me off in so many ways ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Does she think I wouldn't like to help? We've offered to help in the past, and she's said no. But I'm sorry, I can't do a downpayment on a house. I wish I could. I feel like a useless lout of a daughter that I can't, but I can't. Now, why of the two siblings involved should I be the one that gets to feel like a useless lout? My brother makes five times more than I do when he manages to work, and he's _living_ there.

And then, when I mention my piddly AI salary, well. "That's more than I make." Fuck you, mom. That's not my fault.

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