I’m sorry, but I have to write about him. He lives with me and this subject is unavoidable. My family wants to keep him hidden away in an upstairs bedroom like he’s some sort of dark family secret. Never to be discussed. Well, I’m discussing it damn it!
I take my shower at around the same time everyday and everyday OCDC (OCD cousin) starts running the water and uses up all the hot water. I should bitch him out like any normal girl of 30 who still lives with her parents would, but my aunt (OCDC’s mother) would get very upset and have a stroke. She’s prone to stroke’s.
I sound insensitive don’t I? Let me explain. This guy is well over 40 years old, no job, no money, living off my father’s dime (those are supposed to be my dimes!) and has his Mother at his beckon call. My aunt can’t even get a job because of him.
They don’t own a car. Instead of actually buying a car, they rent them every single day of the week for many years. Yes, years! They blown thru a quarter million dollars already.
I’m not sure how much of this gritty little family secret I can vent out without feeling guilty about it after, so maybe I should just end it here. No, wait, I’m not done.
I never talk to him and never see him. I wasn’t kidding when I say he stays in his room all day. He is the Boo Radley of cousins. His Mother is an enabler. They both survive off each other and obviously need help. That’s where my problem lies. They won’t seek professional help!
OCDC has been getting worse and deteriorating day by day. He won’t take medicine for his condition, and doesn’t have any plans for getting better. That is why I don’t feel sympathetic towards him. This is where my frustration comes from. I’m powerless in this whole situation. When I do speak up, I’m the one getting yelled at.
I woke up today at 10 a.m and was happy not to hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom. I went out for my daily jog in the extreme humidity and when I got back, guess who was running the water? I got pissed. I can’t help it. I didn’t even want to take a shower with hot water (I was beat red and practically dying of heat exhaustion), but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was at it again and nobody was doing a damn thing to stop him.
Sometimes I think I’m the only one who has any sense in seeing what’s happening here. But what can I do?
Part of his illness is seeing the devil everywhere. And nobody is allowed to say the word ‘cancer’. You know those goodwill donation bins you drive past? Some of them have a pink cancer ribbon painted on the side of them. He doesn’t want anyone to donate to them because it would be bad luck or some shit. He doesn’t watch tv because at any moment 666 might appear, or someone would mention cancer.
I want my license plate to read 666-HELL, or HI-DEVIL. I want to smudge a devil head into the bathroom mirror with my fingertip, so when the steam fogs it up, he can see it.
My bathroom is directly below the bathroom he uses, so when he starts taking up all the hot water, I want to make a cassette tape that chants over and over, “cancer, cancer 666. Cancer, cancer 666.” It’s a catchy chant. It can be my new mantra. I can blast it so he hears it upstairs. Of course then my aunt will have a stroke.
There’s that saying, ‘If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.’ Should I call the straight jacket guys?
We have a septic tank that’s starting to overflow outside my bedroom window. My Dad finds it pointless to drain it until OCDC moves out. Now I live in stench.
Even if I do manage to terrorize them out of the house, they would be doing the same crap somewhere else. I wonder if OCDC can run the water 24/7 in an apartment building?
Now I’m sitting here in starbucks all worked up. I don’t want to give massages today. I’m in a dark mood. When I left the house today, my dad was wearing his baggy camo pants hunting something in the backyard with my old BB gun. I live in strangeness. My dad I can handle, it’s refreshingly quirky to have a dad like mine, but OCDC is not quirky. He’s helpless and drains life from things.
I can go on and on about the crap he does, but I’m done for now. This is a good way for me to vent. It’s good until I’m caught and my family disowns me.