It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...

The Holidays are over and all the usual shit can come flying in full force.That isn't to say shit hasn't been flying around, it's just more pronounced now that there's no soft Christmas cheer to put a damper on it. Tensions run high in the RyeBread household as he and his family deal with the aftermath of that East Coast Blizzard that dumped a few feet of powder everywhere over a twelve hour period.

Some friends of mine came over to play some video games and just talk about life outside of college before the snow got really bad so they were welcomed to stay until morning so they wouldn't have to drive in the terrible road conditions. My father was working, older sister was back at college for the weekend, and my mother and brother went to a party. Come seven, my friends and I head out and clear off the driveway should my parents come home despite the weather. The wind begins to cover it back up. I get a call from my mom around eight asking me to clear it again as she'll be home soon. She questions whether I am up to no good. So again my friends and I go out, shovel off the foot or so that's fallen or blown over, during which our one shove breaks. We get back in, thaw out, start getting comfortable again. An hour and a half goes by, mom calls again claiming she will be home in about fifteen minutes. We bundle up and get to shoveling. We get back in, pull off our winter gear, and again try to defrost. Another half hour goes by, mom again. She asks if I'm doing anything I shouldn't be, then says she'll be home shortly and to go clean the drive way.

Yeah, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me, fool me three times and bitch I'm not doing it. Well, turns out she was coming home and was none too pleased to find herself in four inches of snow after "specifically telling me to clean it." She went so far as to doubt I shoveled more than once despite the four foot barriers on either side of our walkway. Rye was none too pleased at this accusation, but tried to let it slide. Then, uh oh, more drama. Our darling dog decided that at some point while the men were out shoveling, it would be the perfect time to sneak a crap on the living room floor. Well, after that wonderful session, my friends and I decide it's time to turn in for the night and try to get some sleep. I wake up at one to my dog snuffing at my ear. Apparently her bowels are being assaulted by some holiday treats she got into because she wakes me up every twenty minutes for the rest of the night to run out in the snow to take care of herself. She finally stops around six in the morning and I get some real shut-eye.

My brother comes in four hours later to play some CoD, volume almost maxed out. Needless to say, I was not all that happy. He quiets it and I get another hour or two of sleep. When I wake up, my friends cleared out their car, and the entire top of the driveway, and went home. I clean up the room we crashed in then try to get ready for the day when my mom cuts in around two hours later, screaming that I should be out cleaning her car off, and taking care of the driveway without being asked. Apparently, I should not have to be asked to do anything, I should just do it. Should I fail this telepathic exam, it is perfectly okay for me to be screamed at. Then my mother turns on my friends for spending the night, but only cleaning off their car before leaving. Not only had they been offered an invitation by her, they took care of the top of the driveway. I would say they earned their keep.

I go out with my brother and carve out her car, the walkway, and a significant chunk of the bottom of the driveway before coming in to rest a bit and change clothes. She drops like a banshee from hell, descending in her righteous rage that I dare take a rest when I have barely been awake for five hours. At this point my nerves are frayed to breaking so I take her up in her "who can be loudest" challenge and call her out on some things before finally backing off in my usual passive-aggressive manner and just finishing the damn job with a broken shovel.

So yes, in less than 48 hours, all semblance of a non-aggression pact has gone out the window. There is little doubt in my mind that once I get back to my dorm I'll be getting the daily, "I haven't heard from you, please call home," calls on my cell. I hoped I had escaped the bipolar purgatory that is this house back in September, but it just keeps coming back.