I am most definitely not a happy camper at the moment.

I still have my headache, my car is still smoking, and there are unwelcome visitors in my house.

I'm tired of being here, period. I'm tired of Scott, period. I'm tired of the status quo, period. (Gee, when was the last time I had a period?)

I drove Scott to my mom's house and left him there so he could mow her yard (for which she is paying him, which seems wrong to me, but whatever). As we left the house, I verified that none of his friends were still here, and asked him if he had his key to lock the door. Apparently he did, as it looked to me as though he did in fact lock the door.

He had already checked out my car and found nothing wrong with the oil filter, etc. But when we arrived at my mother's house, I could still smell a burning odor coming from the car, so he promised to look at it again later.

I drove to the tanning salon and was irritated when I got out to see a little bit of smoke coming out from under the hood. So most of my tanning time was spent worrying about the car. I have no money until Friday (payday) because I had to pay a ton of bills with my last check. (Okay, I have enough for lunch and gas this week, but that's about it.) If this car breaks down, I am royally and totally fucked. If it catches on fire, I'm even more fucked because I have no insurance at the moment. I also noticed for some reason my goddamn horn isn't working, which means the car will not pass inspection - and I already have a ticket for that which must be taken care of - so there's a second area for me to be fucked in.

I thought about rushing it down to try and trade it in - but then I come back to the insurance, which I'll need in order to drive off in a new car - assuming I could even get approved for one right now.

Anyway, I headed home after tanning, stopping for gas - another bit of frustration because the first pump apparently was empty - it just wouldn't work.

I arrived home, got out of the car - yep, still a little smoke coming out. I walked up to my front door, key in hand to unlock it - and as I touched the door, it opened.

I stood there for a moment, puzzled. Did Scott not lock the door? But I saw him - surely he didn't pretend to lock it?

I pushed it open and stood in the entryway, listening for sounds of intruders. Nothing. Still uneasy, I nevertheless walked into the house, waiting expectantly for someone to jump out at me. (Guess I would have stabbed them with my key? Sheesh, I'm brave.)

I walked to where I could see down the hall, saw a shadow move in Scott's room, and paused again, waiting. Then I walked further down the hall, and noticed Scott's friend Phillip laying on his bed!!

I got pissed, stood there and asked, "How the fuck did you get in here?" He pointed toward Scott's computer, I leaned in the room to look, and saw another one of Scott's friends, Brian, sitting at the computer.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" I snarled at him.

"Scott gave me his key and told us to wait here for him to get back. Was that wrong?" (Brian is unfailingly polite, but from my conversations with Officer McDonald, I know he is bad news. I love him, but I don't want him here.)

"Yes, that was wrong." I walked off into my room, royally and completely pissed.

Did they do the smart, respectful thing and leave my fucking house?

Nope. They closed Scott's door and hid out in his room.

I sat at my computer for a few minutes, stewing, when I heard the shower dripping. I walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and turned off the shower faucet. Had someone taken a shower in there? My clothes, which I'd hung up to dry, were still hanging on the rod. Hmmm. I turned around and looked down to my right and saw a pair of shoes on the floor - shoes which were most definitely not there when I left earlier!! So someone had been in there. Grrrrrr!

I picked up the shoes and walked into the hall and chunked them at Scott's door.

So why have I not thrown those kids out? Good fucking question. I'm waiting for Scott to come home so I can yell at him and he can throw them out. It pisses me off that I have to be the bad guy in order to have my home to myself.

It pisses me off even more that I cannot just pack up and get the hell out of this place.

I'm so overwhelmed by the number of things I need to deal with that I do not know which one to deal with first. And then if I pick one to focus on, another unsolved problem prevents me from taking action on the first one!

It is like being caught in quicksand, where you grab a fistful of something to pull yourself out, and it just slides away under your hands, pulling you further under. The more you wiggle, trying to get out, the deeper you sink.

=(

Scott finally came home, and I (at first very calmly) asked him why he couldn't understand that I did not want people in my home when no one else is here, regardless of how long we have known them?

His response was that I didn't care about anyone but myself.

I told him that he was absolutely fucking right, I don't. His friends are not my problem, he is not my problem. I told him to check my car and find out why it was smoking. He told me that was not his problem, went into his room, and locked his door.

I went to the door and yelled at him to unlock it, and when he did, I told him he better make my car his problem or get the fuck out of my house.

I feed him, I pay his phone bill, I pay his AOL bill, I pay for the electricity which enables him to use both the phone and the computer and stay up all night long doing so, I pay for the water in which he bathes himself and washes his clothes.

I'm stupid, aren't I?

Unfortunately, part of the reason I do these things is because for the moment, I am stuck with him, and I don't want my home to become an even more miserable place by being in constant conflict with my child, even if that child is an adult and should learn to behave like one.

I'm ashamed that I have let things get so out of control that I can't even conceive of where to begin to get them back on track.

And I'm ashamed most of all for wasting my time wishing that I had someone in my life for support - not financially, but emotionally. Times like these are when I feel my loneliness most acutely and wish I had someone to talk things over with who actually gives a shit about what happens to me. (Although, truth be known, I tend not to discuss my personal problems too much within a relationship - sigh. But you surely understand what I mean - having someone there for you who just makes the rough times easier to deal with, because at least you know that even if everything else is going wrong, being with them is so right?)

Please, no smart remarks from the peanut gallery - I just can't handle it today.