I tried to talk to Mara. It went about as well as you can imagine. There were no hysterics, but she really didn't hear anything that I said. She had moved into the bedroom by then. She said she just went in there because she wanted to read. She didn't admit until I pressed her that she had signed off from Everquest “because it seems to bother” me. I've tried repeatedly to get my point across to her, that Everquest is just a symptom of a larger problem, but nothing can get through to her unless it's written in raised letters on a piece of 2"x4" lumber that's been whacked across her forehead. Even then it'd only leave a temporary impression.

Of course, Mama coming down the hallway to read us a fucking recipe didn't exactly help things along. Mama doesn't take hints, and so while Mara and I both waited patiently for her to finish her recipe recital and wander off, she decided to hang around conspicuously in there and play with Ria. I suppose by that point she had realized that something was going on, and she was sticking around to see if any great confessions were forthcoming.

I hate this place. I hate my life. I hate living in a house with a needy old woman whose favorite pastime is finding shit for you to run to the store for. I hate living knee-deep in Mara's gothic melodrama of never-ending suffering. There are times when I wish I could just get in that truck and never come home.