The Great Arabican War

There is a conflict raging in the Paulk home, and it is over black gold. No, I refer not to oil, but to coffee. After two days of waking up and being asked immediately to make a pot of coffee, I laid down the proclamation that I will no longer be responsible for this duty. Its a battle of wills that's less to do with coffee and more to do with my father's disability.

My father is abusing the system. And no, not the system that has proclaimed him disabled, because he is disabled. With one leg, diabetes, heart disease, Alzheimer's, and who knows what else ailment, there is no way he could work. The system I am referring to is that of my mother's obvious love for him. She does EVERYTHING for him; and he makes sure she does. He takes every opportunity to remind her (and anyone else who will listen) that he is disabled. But here's the problem, my mother is also disabled. Yet she continues to do all the cleaning, all the cooking...all the while he sits in front of the television all day, every day. Its a load of bullshit I'm not willing to cater to because I know if it were something he truly wanted to do, he would do it. For example, he can't help cook dinner, but he can mow the lawn, or burn leaves (after someone else rakes them up, usually my mother), or any other task he deems fun. But make coffee? No.

So, I have not made coffee in almost a week. And yet, every day he still asks me. And ever day, I say "uhmmm...that's your job." In fact, he is in the living room pouting about it right now. But, don't take this to mean that my father is now making the coffee. Oh no. He absolutely refuses to do it. Even though I have rearranged all the necessary supplies so that coffee and filters are all within reach of the coffee pot. All he has to do is throw it all together. But nope...he does everything within his power to avoid making coffee: he'll drink hot tea, get one of my nephews to make it, buy it at McDonalds,...yesterday he went to a doctor's appointment and got one of the nurses to put on a pot of coffee while he was there!

I had really hoped that last night was a turning point in this mini-war. He came out with "if you loved me, you'd make me some coffee....pleeeeeease." When I refused, he pouted of course, and came out with some comment about being unloved or something like that. So I explained to him that I was trying to get him more involved in his own welfare, trying to make him realize that he can take responsibility for his own well being. But...considering that he is still sitting in his chair this morning, pouting, watching T.V., he missed the point.

But that's okay. I honestly think he expects me to cave eventually. He's obviously never noticed that I inherited his stubbornness.

Going With

A list of things I deem necessary to my survival in Backwater Hell:

~ 30 pairs of disposable earplugs (to block out constant TV noise playing in background)
~1 Small fan that makes lots of noise (same as above)
~1 cuddly chocolate lab
~1 Dan's Dog (part stress reliever, part weapon)
~1 desktop computer for World of Warcraft (to avoid filial interactions)
~1 laptop computer for lazy blogging
~5-6 books (to avoid filial interactions)
~1 exercise pad (because my parents have wood floors)
~1 8lb medicine ball
~1 mountain bike
~1 teleportation device

The Countdown Begins

On December 8th, 2008, yours truly will be displaced from her comfy, modern abode into Backwater Hell. Sunrise, Tennessee (see picture) is an unincorporated collection of small cattle farms, tobacco patches, and mobile homes on cinder blocks. Don't be fooled by the inset photo. When the locals (all 29 of them) aren't tipping cattle, shooting their guns at innocent creatures, or running about aimlessly on four wheelers, they are growing marijuana, baking meth in their kitchens, or committing date rape.

My parents moved to this sleepy little corner of the world in 1989. Since my parents, and a good deal of my siblings, migrated to this hellhole, their collective intelligence and ability to speak proper English has declined (and continues to do so) exponentially. Not much changes in Sunrise. Sometimes I think they are afraid to change. Its one of those places where people come to die, not live. Everyone looks as if they are waiting for cancer.

And I am to be here for no less than 30 days.