Hand Maiden

As I have reported before, Moma thinks I am her hand maiden. She orders me around as if she thinks I have nothing else to do. After almost killing me with a massive stroke today, she got me again. She is FURIOUS that Rebekah has had the nerve to "load up that living room" with her things from her apt. She will be moving out in  another few weeks, and we have no other place to put them, so they are in my living room (in case you drop by). I heard her in there just fussing, so because I am tired of ignoring her, I stomped in there and let her have it. I reminded her that this is MY house, and we will put things where we damn well please. I mean I was really ugly about it. She marched to the den and sat on the sofa. I went back to Facebook. In a  minute, I heard, "Julie, Julie.....Julie, Julie.....Juuuuuuulie!" I stomped down there and she said, "Turn on the TV for me". I turned it to the gameshow network (entertainment for the elderly 24/7). As I started out of the room, she said, "You don't like me do you?" I said, "Right now, no.....I do not work for you. I am not your hand maiden. You expect me to drop everything and come running. I am tired of it." She said, "Forgive me", which is her standard answer. Just now as I sat down to update the blog, she bellowed, "JULIE.....JUUUUUULIE!" I got up and went down there. "What?" I asked. "What are you doing?" she asked, like I was 4. Ugh.....