The Dollhouse

I just found out that Father put my beloved dollhouse on Craigslist.

Who does that without asking the owner?

He also said "What were you planning on doing for dinner tomorrow night?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

I am heading home tomorrow to see The House for the last time, to rescue my things from the dump and from Craigslist, to have a huge meltdown and to feel like I don't have to go back until Christmas, if even then.

"She's asking me what you plan on doing for dinner."

"I don't have any plans for dinner... I'm going to be on the bus all day, and then I will be with you guys after 5:00."

"OK, but what are your plans?"

"I don't have any plans! I'm going to be on the bus! I can't get dinner on the bus. What are your plans?"

"We don't know."

"Are you going to eat?"

We've had this conversation so many times.

I'm sick of having parents who won't be parents. What kind of parents don't have food in the house? What kind of parents don't try to feed their kids? I guess I have the sort of situation wherein I should bypass parents entirely and head straight for grandparents.

"We'll figure something out."

I nearly exploded.

I said "Listen, Father, if you guys are planning on not eating and not taking me anywhere to get food, I'm not going to come tomorrow, and I will come on Saturday and pack a lunch for the bus and then eat dinner with Sister."

"We'll figure something out."

What is wrong with these people?

I can't imagine if I pulled that with a guest, especially with The Parents. "Oh! You've just got off the bus you've been on for 6 hours! Well, good luck with everything! I don't eat food, nor do I have any in the apartment, nor do I intend to spend time with you. Find something to eat, and thanks for visiting! See ya! I'm going to bed now!"

And they want me to stay until Monday! Please! I said "Look, I really need a day off. I've been working like an idiot. I've been sick. I haven't been getting enough sleep. I haven't had any time for myself. I need Monday. I need there to be something holiday-ish about this holiday weekend."

"But it would be so nice to have you all in the house!"

"We can't all fit in the house anymore, Father."

"But there's an air mattress!"

What about deconstructing my childhood is going to be nice? A bomb hit my house and I'm going home to collect whatever pieces remain, and to bring them to my nice, adult home that comes complete with food and mental health and happiness and I will protect the pieces there forever. This isn't your nice, normal downsizing. People keep saying "You knew this would happen" and I keep saying "Not like this... this isn't how it's supposed to be, for anyone." This is destruction and I want to immerse myself in it for the least amount of time possible.

It would be so nice.

There is nothing nice about this.

Until next week...

(I know you will all be anxiously awaiting a photo essay on the saved 80's toys! Come on, you know you want to peep The Lite Brite.)