Nonna Sees Everything

Nonna, you sneaky little devil you.

Nonna has become sort of villain in my life. She means well, really she does. But she doesn’t understand what crosses the lines of personal boundaries. You say to me ‘poor Nonna, she’s just looking out for you!’ You’re wrong.

This little story happened back in the summer. I had cleaned out my car for probably the second time in several months. There was a lot of what my Dad would call, “shit” in it. Paper, empty cans of energy drinks, a build up of disposables that get a little – ahem, moist.

It’s fucking disgusting and I know it, but everyday I don’t do anything about it. I’d rather live in my own filth then spend time cleaning. So fine, here I am cleaning out the shit of my car and I’m slowly filling a big black garbage bag. You can fit two bodies in these things, but mines full of shit. I’ve got a backpack in there, two shoe boxes, random jackets. It’s kind of fucked up but this is just how it is. I am messy.

I load my garbage bag up, tie it up and place it in the garage. 20 minutes later I’m about to leave my house for work and I peek out into the garage, where I left my tied up garbage bag.

The door clanks, I turn the handle, and it slides slides open. What I see had officially blown my mind. I felt violated, disgusted, mad – I started to rage.

Who’s there but fucking Nonna – – purple cardigan, dollar store slippers, tiny Nonna stature. She is going through my garbage. Just tearing into it, her arm halfway deep into the bag. She’s pulling random things back out, and explaining that she could somehow sell this stuff to other people. She claims that in Montreal, anyone will buy anything. That is supposed to justify her snooping, legitimate snooping?

She’s covering up her insanity, that’s what she’s doing.

Complete rage. I saw white, literally, I went fucking blind from what I saw. I yelled at Nonna. And I’d do it again if I had to.

What she dropped on me next was the bombshell of all Nonna sayings, the one Nonna saying to rule them all.

“I just an old lady.”

That’s it, too far. I tap out, I rage quit. For once in my life I am at a loss for words.

That pushes it just a little too much. I mean, that scares me – and makes me think Nonna isn’t all that funny anymore. Not too me at least, you can all benefit from this torment.

But right now, at this very moment Nonna and I are doing just fine. But I’m on the alert, it’s official, I don’t take shit from Nonna. I also hide my garbage now.

MB

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