I hate this time of year.
So, I’m moving– I’m outta this place on the 22nd. I’m liking my new house a lot. My tenants? Well, we’ll see. They’re JW’s. They know my grandpa. I’m pretty sure their kids went to school with my siblings for a while.
Yeah. I feeling a little paranoid. They’re getting kind of pushy already. And Grandma (who’s on title– it’s a long story) hasn’t exactly put her foot down. She pretty much promised to rent to them, and put me in a position where I couldn’t say “no.” At least, not without causing all sorts of other issues and making myself look like the world’s biggest asshole. She avoided telling me exactly who she made this promise to as long as possible. She’d wait until I was distracted– the night before a term paper was due, for example– to tell me things, then insist on an answer right then and there. She changed the subject whenever I brought it up. My grandma is an expert at giving answers that don’t actually tell you anything useful– the grand master of bullshitting.
I’m a little peeved.
It gets worse: my accident happened in late December. Driving is really panicky for me, especially at night. It brings up memories that I really don’t want to think about.
After my accident, I needed several blood transfusions (massive intestinal ruptures = contamination of the entire circulatory system.)
JW’s are forbidden to have blood transfusions. Fortunately for me, my mom doesn’t buy into that kind of bullshit. But my Grandpa does, and he made sure that we all knew the doctrine. It’s one of those “family politics” things– my parents had screwed up, my grandparents were helping out, and one of my Grandpa’s conditions for helping was that we were to be raised in the “Truth.”
The same “Truth” which dictated that I shouldn’t have received the blood transfusions that saved my life. The same “Truth” which lead others to assure me that it wasn’t my fault that I’d received the blood transfusions that saved my life. Yes, you read that right.
JW’s are also forbidden from celebrating “Christmas.” My parents, Aunt, and Grandma always celebrated, but it was kept secretive– Grandpa couldn’t know. It was a time of sneaking around and keeping lies, and for what? I don’t think I ever really bought in to the whole Jesus thing. The Santa illusion never even got a chance, thanks to my Grandpa.
The whole thing makes me wish I could just… I dunno, hibernate over the winter or something.

