Specious Lesbo and the Seahorse She Rode In On...

It's been exactly one month since my arrival to the Northeast....one month of staying, as unobtrusively as possibly, with my aunt, uncle and cousin. I think I do a good job at pulling my weight around here...I don't eat too much, I clean the kitchen and bathroom without being asked, and I immediately do any task that I'm asked to do...no problem. I don't want to be any more of a freeloader than I already am by default, so I try to help out. Granted, I told my aunt I'd cook for her, but in the days I haven't been working, I've been adventuring, so that hasn't really played out...

Anyway, during this one months stay, I've discovered some details about my kinfolk. Such as, my uncle...he's a funny guy. He shares my enjoyment in making up words to fit a situation....like, "bozoian"...this is an adjective that can be used to describe anything clown or circus-like. Example: "Nice pants Betty! Although, coupled with that pin-stripped blouse, it makes you look sort of bozoian."

...then there's my aunt. I like my aunt. She's got a great sense of humor, she's nice...we get along great. BUT....yes, we could all see this coming, there's ONE thing. She has a tendency to put me through a labyrinth in order for me to discover something's she's trying to get me to do...or see...or feel...or say....or ask...I don't even know.

On the surface, this isn't too bad....I'm good at games! I'll work on a puzzle for days...I can't get enough of Jeopardy!....and one of my favorite parts of Grand Theft Auto was figuring out how to get the hooker to get in my car...so, it's not the challenge that stumps me....

But, when it comes down to human interaction, I'm not a huge fan of these kinds of games. So far, it's been nothing big...she's had a couple of circuitous conversations with me concerning the flowers....I totally play dumb. I have no brain. I only take things at face value. Sorry.

....so....I woke up this morning...made my way into the bathroom (where my aunt has decided to leave my daily chore notes) and discovered the no-longer-necessary "Mel...please water flowers. Thanks!" and another note, "Mel...I am missing a serrated Henkels Bread Knife black handle. Have you seen it?"

I thought that was kind of weird...why would she be asking me, in note form, where a bread knife was? The only thing I could come up with was that my uncle had asked me where the bottle opener was the other day. I confessed to keeping it in my room so I could open my beers late at night, therefore allowing myself to revel in my alcoholism quietly by myself in my room...I didn't want to keep going back and forth to the kitchen when my beers are kept in the basement. I thought it was good logic...

So, maybe my aunt's assuming that if I hoard bottle openers, that my neurosis spills over into the bread knife department....what she's imagining I'm doing with a personal collection of bread knives is beyond the scope of my creativity...

I took this note with a grain of salt...I guess she's just covering all her bases. I collected my IPod and proceeded out into the front yard to water the flowers and sing and dance along to all the music my heart could desire....

Somewhere...right as the IPod turned to some melancholy Wilco...I saw a glimmer in the grass...I proceeded with caution, because if I've learned one thing in life, it's to be cautious around things that shine...and, low and behold, I found myself a serrated bread knife! Well, I'll be....

At first, I was excited. I wanted to call my aunt right away to announce that, indeed, I did know where her precious Henkels Bread Knife black handle was...but then, I was like, "Hey....wait a minute...is this some sort of test?" And yes, I did say that out loud...I was looking in the direction of Clovis, the neighboring horse, so we can pretend like I was asking him...

Then I put the pieces together...did my aunt really place this bread knife near the garden in order to see if I'd find it...and therefore determining whether I'm watering the flowers or not? Maybe I'm the one reading into this too much...but, it just all falls together too nicely...

I'm tempted to put it back...to tell her that I have no idea where the fucking knife is....but, insist that I DID water the flowers....and see if I can get her to crack! But, that would be playing the game...and I refuse to do that with ANYONE...I've quit a job over shit like this before...

The way I see it is, you either talk to me or you bottle up your feelings and keep them to yourself until they come out in a massive emotional explosion...like the rest of the world.

So, I guess I have to be the one to do the talking, although I'm not the one with the problem, well, I guess now I am...I have a problem with her scavenger hunts...I'm waking up early tomorrow and we're going to have a discussion about what I am/am not doing with the flowers that doesn't meet up to her expectations. How can I improve? What kind of future do I see for myself as a member of this household? Can I expect a raise in the next six weeks? I'm getting to the bottom of this...