July 12th, 2006

Van Gogh

*Hugs tummy tightly*

I hate colitis attacks. I hate them!
Well, let's see what I've been doing in these 2 days?
Giving the final touches to my exam preparation, proceeded getting mad at the prof for the mark... but that after I was already up in arms about my parents.

Oh yesss. They decided to start another fight the night before my exam. Fight that's still going on.
Something yesterday morning clogged the WC. I asked mom if I had to call the plumber but she said to wait. Smart move. By evening the water wasn't flooding anymore, dad was the last to go to the bathroom and she took it out on him. He felt like she was wrongly accusing him of having done it (which surprisingly she wasn't, she had already decided I had done it) and they fought.
They weren't talking this morning.
I told dad to call the plumber and he came in the morning, turns out SOMEONE had dropped the WC perfume lil box in there. And let's not talk about all the cat'sand mom keeps throwing in it.
Anyway, plumber fixed it in 1 hour.
Just as he went away, mom called asking for the plumber number so she'd call him and come home. I told her it was all already done (I was about to phone her anyway) and she got mad cause we did it without telling it to her. I told her it wasn't my fault they weren't talking and it degenerated in the usual 'You always defend him!!!' argument.

Tonight dad went to leave the car at my grandparents' since we leave on Saturday (BTW he's not back yet, I'm a bit worried) and the few words he spat out weren't pretty... he's still mad and that worries me A LOT.
Usually he knows that the only way to deal with mom is to ignore her crazy rants. But I guess coupled with a bad day at work, he's having none of it.

For the first time I'm really questioning my decision to vacation with them in Sicily.
I decided to do only in order to mediate between them... but now I found myself asking if I'm not making things worst, adding tension.
And said tension is wearing me out. I can't stand the idea of spending 18 days worrying myself sick, studying each and every look and word that passes between them.
I wish I could learn how to let go, and let them deal with this on their own.
But I can't. Why can't I?

And the thought that when I'll come back no one will be here is making me even more depressed.
Yes, Sicily was def. a BAD idea.