He doesn’t understand why I would be upset about him buying his “dream car.” Uh, how about the fact that it only has 2 seats and there’s 3-4 people that need to be driven around in this family? How about the fact that he’s been driving like a maniac lately and I’m seriously worried he’s going to crash and kill himself in a sports car?
“I don’t want a four-door because they’re ugly.” Well, at least get one with four fucking seats, asshole.
Ugh. I’m angry and I’m upset, but I’m trying to keep it all on the inside. Because it’s his money, we’re living here under his kindness, and he’s going to do what he’s going to do.
And if that includes spending $30,000 on a car when he bitches me out every month for spending more than $300 on groceries, well, that happened. So I’ll ignore the leaky roof, the lack of good indoor heating, the emptiness of the refrigerator, and the fact that he refuses to go to the doctor because it’s too expensive, and pretend some enthusiasm for his new car.
What a fucking waste of money.
