I sent the email to the doctor’s office about the procedure. I was a bit too afraid to call, so I thought since they included an email that I would use it. I probably won’t hear back from them.
It’s funny that I sent it today, since apparently, over the weekend, I ate something that I shouldn’t have. I ate some rigatoni, all through the day, and it’s something that my father doesn’t even like, and something that I told my mom that I was eating. So, it was brought up within the past few minutes, and I get to hear about how I’m always doing things like this, being inconsiderate, etc. My dad got mad because when I’m up during the day, I don’t get him things to eat. Hmm…normally, it’s Hot Pockets, and I get my mom Hot Pockets. I don’t ask him because HE DOESN’T LIKE THEM! Besides, he’s 30 years older than me, knows how to cook, and chooses not to do so. It is not my fault if he refuses to do things for himself. He may have PTSD, depression, etc., but I don’t think he’s physically unable to cook something for lunch. He’s probably afraid that if he did that, he might have to cook something for dinner. That might require him to actually do something for other people, and God knows the man can’t do that.
I am sick of hearing how I always eat their food. Utter crap. This one time, in like 6 months, I eat something that is for family consumption. That is not always. I have my food eaten all the time. I don’t get to complain. It’s not my place to complain. I only live here. (Even if it is my house.)