I've got nothing.

Lately I've been dealing with unhappy people in business, personal and volunteer-wise. They really take it out of me. One time we bought this ginormous bottle of hand soap at Costco. They kind where you could wash the country of Chad's hands and still have some left over for yourself. We put this bottle under the sink in the spare bathroom. Thankfully there was nothing else under that sink. The Ughe bottle got a little tiny whole in it. So small that we didn't even notice it. A month goes by and I pull that baby out to refill the soap dispensers. It's leaked out, all of it, and flooded the cabinet with gooey soap. That's how I feel about unhappy people. People who have a slow leak. Toxic people. They slowly leach out and cover your world with gooey mess. By the time you figured it out, they're gone and you have to clean up the goo. And it never cleans up easily.

I told you about my house guest from hell, non? Well, I did. I'm not allowed to talk about her around hubby. He groans and then walks away, shaking his head, trying to forget. Most of the time I'm able to put the whole sad, pathetic, alcoholic-inducing event behind me. Until something comes up that reminds me of that unfortunate the nightmare.

Last week such a reminder came calling. A mutual friend called me on Thursday. Thursday! She was in town. For her brother's graduation. She wanted to get together. Great! Sounds great. She wanted to get together with said house guest from hell (HGFH) and myself. Oh. Not so great. As if that wasn't the last thing I would do before jumping neckid in a vat of boiling oil, she wanted to get together ONLY on Saturday. ONLY at lunch. Only the time I was teeing off on the 16th hole. Now, I'm not anywhere close to being what some people call "good" at golf. In fact, I stink. But I know golf etiquette. I'm nothing but a well mannered woman. When someone agrees to play in a foursome on a Saturday, she may not, unless the dead are invading the earth, break that agreement on Thursday evening. Especially to have lunch with someone who could have emailed you several weeks prior to her arrival and includes the above mentioned HGFH. Nah-uh.

So my friend is verrrry persistent. To this I think "she knows." I've never told her about said HGFH experience. I don't want to put her in the middle. I'm sure the HGFH told her how horrible I was. How Hubby and I were so mean to her. How we never made her clean the house. Or cook dinner. Or never took her anywhere. Or never made her shovel the g.d. walk after we'd worked all day and driven home in a blizzard. Or didn't want to hang out with her at Every. Waking. Moment. Yeah, it was all us. But, I didn't want to put this friend in the middle because she is a "fixer." Otherwise known as a peacemaker. She will try to "get us back together" anyway she can. But she doesn't know the secret. She doesn't know that the HGFH can fix it her g.d. self by simply saying, "sorry." Sans fake air quotes, of course. All I want is for her to realize how horrible she was to us and to say she's sorry.

But she won't, she can't. And I'm fine with that. Or so I thought. I told my friend that I was golfing, and couldn't make it. She told me to call them when I got done golfing and we could get together then. Oh yeah, I've just walked 3 friggin miles in 97 degree weather, but I'll give you a call. So I didn't call. Instead I called on Sunday and got her voice mail. She hasn't called me back. Perhaps she's now mad at me as well.

That didn't bother me. What bothered me was the dreams I started having. Clearly these are repressed feelings bubbling to the surface, trying to break free. In my dreams I'm screaming! Screeeeeaming at the HGFH. How horrible she is, how selfish, how lazy, how disgusting, how rude... and she's just sitting there. Then she yells back at me that I'm the freak and I need to get out. Get out?! It's my friggin house. And so it goes. I scream and scream and it goes nowhere. She just doesn't get it.

I'm not a screaming-type person in real life. I hate screaming or yelling of any kind. It makes me very uncomfortable. I was abused by my older brothers as a child, when they were on drugs and not aware of their actions. They used to scream and beat me up and I would cry and lock myself in my room. I learned to avoid screaming. I know how it feels to be yelled at. It's very demoralizing. So I never do it. But I think there has to be a balance somewhere between yelling at someone and locking yourself away. I've locked so much away on this and it's surfacing in my dreams whether I like it or not. I've avoided the HGFH and the situation for over a year.

It may be time for me to face it.