A Perfectly Cromulent Girl

Ew. We’re currently in the middle of renovations at my house. Actually, we’ve been in the middle of renovations for the last 20-odd years, because my father does them all by himself, and let’s just say the man likes to pace himself. But at the moment they’re centred in my room, which means I have to sleep on various siblings’ floors, be yelled at for snoring, try to find where the hell my clothes are in amongst all my shit that’s been shoved in random places about the house, and be left with sporadic Internet time because there’s frequently no power or nowhere to plug Max (my laptop) in. We’re about 2 or 3 weeks into this, and Dad’s still only half done – I think I may cry.

But yeesh, do I have some shit – I’m a packrat like my mother and the amount that I’ve managed to accumulate in my 23 short years on the planet is staggering. It’s currently taking up the entirety of what used to be my sister Amelia’s room. Plus I’ve purchased about $500 worth of Xmas shit this year already (decorations, garlands, displays, musical toys, etc), and have nowhere to put it! Waaaaahh.

Luckily, when my room’s finished I shall have a new walk-in wardrobe (that’s a closet to my American friends) that extends out over the top of my doorway, so I can climb up a ladder and store shit up there (we have giant-ass 10.5 foot ceilings, so now all that wasted space is being put to use), as well as big floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covering another wall (I’m gonna have a ladder that slides from one end to the other! Like an old-fashioned library! Suh-weeeet). So all that shit will have somewhere to go. Ooh, and I also bought myself a double bed – I’ve been sleeping in the same tiny single bed I’ve had since I was fucking 8, and I thought, ‘Well, I’m gonna have some extra floor space now, and I’m a grown-up, so goddammit, I’m getting a grown-up bed!’ Heh.

I’ll have to post pics when it’s all finished – that’s if I manage to get through the renovations. Ugh. Major disruptions to the household do not much for familial relations, let me tell you. Tensions are kinda high…

Sooooo… had an interesting conversation with my grandfather (Mum's father). A little background on him - he's 82, but still fit and healthy, and his mind's still as sharp as a tack. He's also moderately racist, sexist and just generally batshit insane.

He found out that I'm never having children. His reaction?

Gramps: Now, now, now, don't say that, you never know. (Said very condescendingly, as though I am still a stupid 5-year-old).

Me: Actually, yes, I do know. It's a decision I've put a lot of careful thought and consideration into.

Gramps: No, no, no, you can't say things like that. What if your husband wants kids? Oh, you probably don't want to get married either. *sneer*

Me: Actually, yes I would like to get married someday. And if he wanted kids, he wouldn't be my husband in the first place. That's generally the sort of thing you discuss before getting married.

Gramps: Well, you still never know. Sometimes these things just happen.

Me: No, they don't, Gramps. I know you're old, but there's this thing now called "birth control". (Yes, I am rude and snarky to my grandfather - what of it?)

Gramps: Well, that can't always be relied on. (Note: I am related to some of the most sexually irresponsible people on Earth. Like my mother, who refuses all forms of birth control because she "doesn't like it" and "it's a hassle" - I would think raising 10 kids was more of a hassle, but whatever. And my idiot older sister, who insists that you can't be expected to use condoms all the time, because sometimes they just ruin the mood - she still holds this belief, after aborting an unplanned pregnancy and catching two STDs over the years.)

Me: It can if you're responsible and diligent with use, which I am, since I have a pathological fear of getting pregnant, and I don't care who I inconvenience with my paranoia.

Gramps: Yeah, well… never say never. You might be sleeping one night, and your husband will just….. *trails off when he sees the look of utter "O.o WTF???" on my face*

Yes. According to my grandfather, one should never say they're never having children, just in case they marry the sort of guy who would be inclined to RAPE YOU AS YOU SLEEP. Good lord. And as if I wouldn't abort the sucker if that ever happened (which it so wouldn't) anyway.

I'd be worried about what he got up to with my nan in years past, if I didn't know for a fact that Nan's so sexually repressed, they didn't have sex for the first time until six months after they got married. (Jeebus - I spawned from these people? Me?)