I swear, every time I go home to Maryland, I feel like a goddamn diva. I arrive at my parents’ house and I mean, it’s the usual, so I don’t know why I even bother writing about it. All the lights in the house are on timers. I know they travel back and forth multiple times a year, but Jesus Christ, if you’re going to be home for longer than a month, can you at least turn the switch on the timer to “live outlet”?? Without fail, evening approaches and the room gets dark as fuck, I go to turn on the lamp and no response. It’s not a HUGE deal to take that extra step of feeling around in the dark for the timer on the floor, but still. Kinda annoying.
Then, I sleep in the first floor suite bc it’s warmer, but for that part of the house (Don’t worry, we’re not in some kind of Aaron Spelling mansion), dad shuts off the water heater. So, rather than turning that shit on like the day I’m coming home, he just says, use the bathroom upstairs for hot water. Lovely. I suppose the ice cold water is good for washing my face, considering my face is still inflammed. Perpetually swollen bc 1) I have RBF (resting bitch face) 2) I’m still crying every day about Marty. And whatever, I can use the bathroom upstairs but the fucking drain has some kind of clog and by the time I’m done with my five-minute shower, I am standing in like 2 inches of dirty water! Argh!!!
The final straw regarding home accommodations is the sheets. You have now idea: my parents have a humongous hall closet upstairs stuffed to the brim with linens. I get to the bedroom where I have stayed the last several years and there’s a cheap polyester quilt on top of the mattress. They didn’t even bother to put fucking fitted sheets on the mattress. For reals. Am I being a big-time diva, or is it fair to expect them to put legit sheets on the bed when their progeny flies across the country to visit. WTF. Then, the comforter is another 100% polyester POS that they don’t even stuff into a duvet cover. Instead, they just put the duvet cover and the comforter on top. Thankfully, the cover is cotton (the only thing that is), so I have that against my skin. Here’s the deal. I have super sensitive skin: I mean, I might as well have a legit medical skin condition bc I get itchy really easily and am susceptible to rashes, hives, minor bug bites (that invariably turn into welts), shingles, acne, what have you…
So this cheap polyester shit makes me itch. And, I forgot to mention that I am still recovering from flea bites all over my ankles… I suppose some kind of parting gift from Marty. You see, the whole week before his passing, I was itching like hell and we had fleas once before, so I was telling John that I suspected fleas and he just kept dismissing it all as my usual skin sensitivities. Mind you, home boy NEVER gets bitten by bugs. Until one day, he spots a black speck on his foot: oh ok, high alert: we have fleas. Yeah asshole, that’s what I have been saying… whatevs. Same shit happened when I got the shingles years ago. I kept telling him the blisters around my trunk were super itchy and painful. Oh just go take a shower. Put on some lotion. Change into new PJs. Fuck you. I went to the doctor and had to get put on super serious prescription meds. And if you read up on shingles, that shit is no games: like neurological issues. Anyway… so I ask my mom where the good sheets are, like COTTON sheets. She comes back with another polyester blend comforter. WTF??? I went upstairs to the linen closet and it’s all towels. Where are the goddamn bedding sets? Forget it. Supremely annoyed, I just sleep on the scratchy shit.
As the night progresses, my skin gets drier (from the heat) and itchier. My bug bites flare up and by 5:30am, I still haven’t slept. I rip off the comforters and take the one cotton duvet cover and essentially put it on the mattress, lie on top and then fold the other half of it over me so I’m in a cotton burrito. The whole time, I am SMH. Why does it have to be like this?
The conclusion on my diva-like behavior? I gotta take things into my own hands. I am purchasing a 100% cotton travel sack from Amazon and this shit is coming with me anytime I visit Maryland again. Fucking A. The odd thing is, for my entire childhood, my grandmother was obsessed with BVD and cotton everything. Have we learned nothing???