A room with a view

Angst sidetracked me in that last post. What I actually meant to say was Oh my god we're going to Niagara Falls! I've booked! We'll be staying at a hotel right near the falls. Best of all, we've booked a room with a guaranteed falls view. So insert Heather and me into this picture. But we won't be reading books. As if! We'll be pressing our noses flat against the glass, with big, wide grins on our faces.

Up in the air, down in the dirt

In one week, Heather and I will be up in the air, on our way to adventure and wintery weather. I am underprepared. I need to finish marking my students' essays, work out what the hell to take with me, organise money, and buy a few more winter clothes in the next week. And a billion other things that I probably won't remember until the day before we leave.

My Dad is arriving today to stay for a couple of days. He was meant to come next week and take us to the airport. However, due to some weird miscommunication, that plan fell through. The "communication" part was him telling me he was coming. The "mis-" part was his failure to tell me that he planned to stay for a week. He assumed that this would be okay. I assumed that he would only stay a night or two, since he's never stayed longer than that on any of his previous visits. When he told me on Sunday that he was planning to arrive on Wednesday to stay for the week, I was, erm, surprised. I told him that he couldn't possibly stay for a week, since we currently have a very overcrowded little sharehouse. David's girlfriend Liz has moved in, and Emma's boyfriend stays every now and then, which means we often have six people in our three-bedroom house. Adding a seventh, even if he is my Dad and it's only for a week, would simply not work. Dad took the news quite well, but Mum, as it turned out, did not.

That's how I came to answer the phone on Sunday to hear my mother bellowing: "Michelle, you fucking disgust me!"

"Huh?" I said, as one would.

She repeated the same sentence and I hung up on her, as one would.

In families, little things get blown out of proportion so easily. Mum completely overreacted to what she perceived as my slight of Dad. When I later told her that she could not speak to me like that, she accused me of all sorts of things, including lying and being a bad daughter. I don't know what the hell is going on with her. Maybe she's freaking out about the marriage. Maybe she's freaking out about the trip. I don't really care either way. I just wish she'd calm down and be happy about stuff for once.