take the long way home
so, the creepy guy that is living in my basement has a serious problem with drugs and alcohol. mostly alcohol- he doesn't know his limit and drinks until he can't walk and/or falls down the stairs.
last week, james fell down the stairs in the middle of the night. he sliced his arm up good and bled like a stuck pig all over the place. tonight, he fell down the stairs, landing is a convoluted twisted heap of limbs and clothing halfway down, stuck on a pillar. but this time, in stead of being the middle of the night, it happened while i was watching die hard instaed of studying. [who can resist a good old fashioned action and christmas movie with bruce willis?].
what pissed me off the most about this though, was not that he was drunk, not that he could have seriously hurt himself, not that he was so wasted that it was inevitable- but that if somethig had happened, i would have been entirely unable to help him. i couldn't even offer to help him up. all i could do was hover on my crutches at the top of the stairs- asking if things were good. the control freak mother in me was livid that she could do nothing, and at the same time, i was livid that i was even put in the situation of having to do anything.
it embarassed him. and you know what? i'm glad that wasted asshole was uncomfortable. welcome to how he makes me feel every second of the time that i spend in his presence.
i can't wait for him to get the fuck out of our house.