And today on “Who Gives a Shit About Meg,” we have: my brother calling to tell me that he’s cutting off all contact with our father and that, as the said shithead father’s executor/power of attorney, I’m to “let (my brother) know after he dies.” I love the support and the willingness to take responsibility and help me deal with things. Oh wait. Whoops, that should read, “I’d love to not be entirely on my own to deal with anything that might come before that including any costs accrued in the process of dealing with his old age, but yet again, here I stand, utterly without recourse to any family member willing to help in case of emergency.” I’d love to say “oh, I’m cutting off contact as well, good luck dad,” but some of us are actually adults who recognize that someone has to take care of business on the off chance that he doesn’t just die of a massive stroke or a heart attack in the middle of the night and actually accrues hospital bills/develops more mobility issues/lives long enough to start to physically deteriorate to the point of needing care (and no, he can’t afford a retirement community or he’d probably be in one by now).
Just… what the fuck did I ever do that my family has decided I can take every bit of shit they want to pile on me without breaking?
Meg's Mumbles 