My Dinero or Your Dinero?

Dad and I had a long and quite combative talk last night. I told him that I should have about $100 a month of discretionary money to spend – money for leisure, computer parts, or eating out. I don’t need to face the equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition every time I take Lori out for dinner and a movie. It reminds me of a fledgling leaving the nest. Sometimes I feel like I am 42 going on 16 years of age. “It is my money after all,” I told him and it pissed my father off deeply when I said that. He started to rattle off my expenses as if they were his own.  Dad is extremely possessive of my disability money. Startled Awake – Sleep We Shall Abate… He, my father, has already called me twice this morning about my injection.  “They should be here with the delivery from Montgomery any moment now,” he told me 10 minutes ago. “I just wanted to see if you were up and going.” He called me back shortly and told me to go ahead and get my shower.  Knowing my luck it could be 2pm this afternoon when my injection arrives. I will have to sit around on pins and needles as my mind falls into schizophrenic induced dementia (just being over-the-top and dramatic). Yay! On the computer part front, Dad said he had already gotten Matt to order the motherboard this morning. “That computer part was $300 dollars,” my father told me. “You have very expensive tastes.”
Source: The 4th Avenue Blues - Category: Mental Illness Authors: Source Type: blogs