I have, indeed, accepted the fact that when I express my hatred for my own Grandma to others, my soul appears to be as empty as my Xanex bottle. But what I refuse to accept is reasons for this hatred must go unnoticed and my mouth must remain shut.
As a lawyers' daughter I have learned to be strategic with my arguments and present the facts in a rational way in order to state my case. And as a woman, I have learned that making an effort to keep my mouth shut is about as easy as giving birth. These two facts have made me a force to be reckoned with.
With that said, no rationale is needed to argue the case that if one refuses to bathe in two years time, one should be deemed incompetent; or at least labeled a fucking disgusting pig. Evidently, comments like such make me insensitive, so needless to say I have stock in Yankee Candle and I buy bleach in gallons of five.
Initially when we moved in, I briefly witnessed the faint fear in her eyes as I whirled through the house throwing away her expired Helman’s Mayonnaise coupons. The stacks of direct mailing letters from the Pope himself made their way into the garbage next to my optimism. No amount of prayer cards or holy water could help us now. She is alive solely based on the fact that neither God nor the Devil wants her, so she remains here on Earth mind-fucking the feeble and assessing the endurance of the resilient.
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