Sunday, 29 July 2007

Money worries, and various other stress...

Current mood:  stressed

I want out of here.  Stress is mounting up like a stack of my Dad's old newspapers.  It's kind of a difficult situation to explain, so if you want to know, try to follow me carefully! :P
My Grandad owned the leasehold for a very bad condition house in a lovely area, and here in the UK, area appears to be everything.  There was no way we could afford the freehold, so we sold the leasehold back to the leaseholders.  By the time his money came through, my poor Grandad had passed, meaning he never knew what my Mum ended up getting for it in the end - he was thinking on the scale of about 10,000 pounds, but what we actually got was 70,000, plus the money to pay off lawyers fees etc.
Then (with our little knowledge of money), Mum had to find a suitable place to invest the cash.  We went to a well known bank, and got advice from their free financial adviser (who's only free if you invest your money with them at the end of it! :P).
Anyhow, she ended up putting the money (70,000) into an "Investment" account, meaning she gets paid money four times a year as an income, since she doesn't go to work.  But the 70,000's account is high risk too, and being the worrier she is, my Mum hates it.
And now her fears are coming true...
The 70,000 had almost got up to 75,000 when it started to drop and now it's down to about 70,200, meaning she's only got two hundred quid's worth of interest in about 18 months.  She's already dreading checking her online account on Tuesday, when they'll next show the changes.  So am I, actually.  It's making her really ill.  And also, we need that money to get the new house fixed up, since this house is NOT going to make much at all. :(
So now we're having more arguments.  Mum hasn't been on many holidays during her life, and considering travelling is her biggest dream, it's kind of sad to have that money and not go away.  But to move to an area where we could go away from  and not worry about the house, is to lose the money.  Goodness, it's hard!
Today, being Saturday, I hoped to be "taken out".  (I feel like a dog being taken for its walk by reluctant owners! :()  But I didn't even get the new Argos catalogue, much less anywhere more exciting.  We were driven to the nearby factory retail outlet where Dad could get his free "World At War" DVD with the Daily Mail, while Mum went into a travel agent's, trying to show me why we "simply can't move" and "must have holidays and happy memories together".  Happy memories, eh?  My own bed would be a nice one.
Then we went to the pet shop to get hay.  It's the first time I've been since Sparkle died, and being the place where I bought my two guinea pigs, it made me quite emotional, although the whole place is being refurbished, so there are actually no animals for sale there at the moment.  Which is just as well, since I'm not allowed to get any more guinea pigs, I'm told.  Dad's old boss, Harry (who is well into his 80's now, and bought Sparkle for me), sent me the money to buy a new guinea pig, but Mum and Dad are having none of it.  Mum says she feels like "writing back to Harry,  and giving him what for!  You don't give money to a CHILD to buy a PET unless you consult with her PARENTS first!!!"  AGH!  I am getting more and more sick of them.  I think I've found a guinea pig-sitter now, although they are expensive, and my sister said she'd look after any pets once or twice, as a back-up should something go wrong with our original plans for guinea pig boarding, but still I'm told I'm having no more pets. :(
Then we were marched straight back home.  On the way back to the car, I was squinting in the sunlight, and commented that I really need to be escorted by my parents (NOTE: I didn't even suggest they let me go on my own.  I'm being submissive now...) into a shop where I can buy sunglasses, before the sunlight causes me cataracts from having no protection and wrinkles from squinting so much.  And Mum turned on me again, "Oh, I wouldn't worry about wrinkles!  What's wrong with you?  You want to be a bl**dy model or something?!"  Oh goodness me, can't a girl care for her appearance any more?  *Sighs deeply*
Dad said we could go out to Southsea tomorrow, and combine both the car boot sale (a big one where I've had loads of luck in the past), with the war memorial my Mum's been wanting to look at for ages, and also just let me see the sea.  I'm a beach babe at heart, who loves the coast, but no-one will let me near.  *Sobs*  Anyways, I was really looking forward to this when three things happened...
1. We looked at the "Car Boot Calendar" and the boot sale no longer exists.
2. Mum started to feel really ill over all the money stress and can't move.
3. Dad fell asleep after his *exhausting* day's work, and didn't  do the laundry which he'd promised to do to give my poor back a rest.  And I can't wait any more days since I only have six t-shirts and six pairs of socks with no holes in as it is!
So the day out is cancelled.
On Wednesday, Mum and I are taking a coach to Great Yarmouth, so that should be quite fun, so long as it doesn't rain.  We'll only get a couple of hours, and Mum's already claimed the time to do what she wants to do, but still, it will be the first time I've been to the seaside without my odd-minded father, and the first time I've been on a coach too!  (Yes, I lead a sheltered life!)
And lastly, Dad decided to put the BBC Proms 2007 on TV tonight, which is thoughtless in itself, since the last year Grandad was at home, he was sad that he had to go into hospital that night and miss the proms,  so Mum and I always get upset when it comes around to it each year.
Anyway, Mum said something along the lines of,  "Why do you have to pester us by having the TV on, when you can't even hear it?" because the sound was so low, and Dad turned on me and said it was my fault he couldn't hear because the window was open and the traffic on the main road (which he chose to live in originally, remember?!) was too noisy.
Mum retaliated and reminded Dad that it was him who bought this house, and said, "You don't buy a house on a main road if you don't want traffic noise."
"Ah, bat ya doe ef ya dant nade thar win'ows o'en!" ("Oh, but you do if you don't need the windows open" for those who don't understand common people like my so-called father)
Initially, I was a good girl and got up and shut the window, but then I got annoyed when my blasted ex-father didn't even thank me, and kept ranting about people who have the window open all the time.  So I got hold of the TV remote and lobbed it at him, and then punched, kicked and pummeled the ugly creep.  I couldn't help it.  He's just so horrible to me.
So he snarls at me, completely unharmed by his experience, of course, since I don't fight hard, "Then you wonder why I've always 'ated ya?!"  Well, evil father, I don't quite get that.  This fight only began 'cause you hated me in the first place, and started showing it badly many years back now.  I said to him calmly how he hadn't given me a room, and believe me, if he had I'd be in there with my window open, and he could watch the stupid TV in peace."  But because I'd dared to confront him, out the blue, he said to my Mum,  "SELL THE 'OUSE THEN!", obviously to get back at me, because he knows how badly I need to move there, to start a normal life.  Fortunately, it seems to have worked to my advantage, and Mum has taken pity on me, seeing how horrid Dad has been to me.  I think half of the reason was 'cause I broke down in genuine tears at that moment.  I just can't take it any more...
Then he got up and switched the TV back on and turned it up REALLY LOUD, stamping down hard on my hand as he went. (Ouch!)  Horrible, horrible person. :(
So that's how we stand right now.  Dad's meant to be clearing a space on the floor of the back bedroom for a mattress for me to sleep on...although I shan't be able to wear my pajamas anywhere that he's likely to see me - god knows what would go through his sick little brain.  Until then though, we're alternating, with Mum on the sofa one night, and in the double bed next to me the next.  And Dad sleeps either on the sofa or at the new house - which annoys us no end, when he won't get on and move us over there.  Why should it be that he's the only one with a proper bed?  Which he is, since he "communal bed" as I've decided to call it, where Mum and I sleep, and Dad lays all day when he's not at work, has loads of springs sticking through the mattress - I almost ripped my foot open on one the other day!!! >:(  Dad (who I never call "Dad" in real life, by the way.  He's always called by his first name, or in some cases surname, which is the same as mine, but in my heart, I shall never share my name with his. Just wanted to note that.) is also supposed to be making plans for the new house (you know, as we paid the architect 500 pounds to do and he failed), but now the horrible man says it's impossible.  Well, why's he strung me along for so long with false hope then? :(
I recorded "A Date With Darkness" on TV last night.  Anyone else see it?  I only recorded it for Shane Meier's star acting, mind you.  The  film is not my sort of thing at all - far too much like the things that happen around here.  A girl was sexually assaulted in the alley behind our garage just last week, which means there's been one assault, two stabbings and one shooting in the past six months in that alleyway alone!  And one of the stabbings resulted in the death of a boy just one year older than me. :(  RIP, whoever you were. :(  And sorry you wasted your short time in this area. :(  I actually heard the shooting take place - two gun shots and a loud scream, but took no notice 'cause we hear that kind of thing 'round here all the time. 
Oh well, no more to say now.  I really must get to bed and enjoy my night on my own, before I'm back to sleeping next to Mum again tomorrow.  The only way I can think of to even keep myself slightly segregated from her is to wrap one of our covers entirely around myself and tuck both edges down the same side of the bed, like an enormous sausage roll if you get what I mean.  Although in this hot weather, that's hell.
Right, I'm really off.  This was all written in a box for a bulletin post, 'cause I'm sick of the long Myspace blogs not entering properly, so sorry for the lack of smileys/unusual fonts etc.
And on the subject of problems with Myspace blog entries, how do I delete a post?  It's just that I noticed my last (Zwinky) post was a complete mess-up, so it would have been nice to correct it/delete it and re-post.  If you can help a computer  dummy, do let me know the answer to that one! :D
Best wishes,
Your over-talkative depressed damsel in distress,
Desiree  xxx

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