Under My Skin

Angie has managed to get under my skin again. Why do I let her bother me? I got Mary to call her because Bonnie had said that Mary had talked to Angie earlier on the phone but suddenly Angie was gone, like she’d hung up. Angie was obviously in bad mood, not very talkative. Mary asked her what she was doing and she said she was watching TV—O’Reilly. She reminded Mary that she used to watch him, too, and asked her why she didn’t turn it on and watch him. Then she said that I didn’t…what was it? Did she say I didn’t let Mary or that I didn’t like it? In all honesty, I can’t remember. Mary told her that I didn’t care what she watched, so I piped up that, no, I didn’t like it when she watched him, that I hated him, which she reported back to Angie. So that’s one thing that annoyed me. I mean, that’s part of living with someone—giving and taking. I try not to watch things that Mary doesn’t like (except for “Sex and the City,” for which I feel totally guilty), and I ask Mary not to watch things that I don’t like (like Fox and shows about snakes and spiders). I mean, Mary is free to watch O’Reilly or the Fox News Channel if she wants to, and I’ll go to my room and close the door so that I can’t hear it. But Mary doesn’t want that. My watching TV with her is more valuable to her than watching O’Reilly. But Angie makes it out to seem like I’m so bad guy who’s controlling what Mary watches. Yet she’s the one who will call us and tell us to turn over to a certain channel because there’s something that she thinks we should watch. If we’re in the middle of a movie or something else, I’ll tell her and she gets really vehement about how we should change the channel. However, if we call her and tell her something that we think is good, she’ll reply that she’s watching one of her shows and doesn’t want to change the channel. End of story. Makes me want to scream.

Well, it sounded like their conversation was winding down when I went over to play with the cat. As if Angie had read my mind, she asked Mary if she was enjoying the cat. Mary replied in the affirmative, that she really liked it. Then Angie told her about a couple of kittens that were in the newspaper, that someone wanted to give away, and said that that was what they (??? She and Anna???) had wanted Mary to get—a kitten. In other words, Mary got what I wanted, not what they wanted for her, so I had forced my will on her again. But they don’t understand that for one thing, this cat needed a good home and it’s harder to find a place for an adult cat. Also, this cat is declawed, which is important around someone with paper-thin skin like Mary’s. And this cat is a proven lap-cat. A kitten wouldn’t want to sit still, I don’t think. This one has been shy thus far and hasn’t gotten up into Mary’s lap, but I’m sure she will eventually. And Mary is perfectly happy with this cat. Why does Angie have to go and try to spoil that? Because we didn’t get the kind of cat that she wanted—an orange tabby kitten. She’s so manipulative and wants to be in control! Argh! Why do people have to be so complicated? Why can’t they just enjoy life?