My Life Just Turned Into A Soap Opera: Part 1

I’ve always made it a point to never write in the heat of the moment because I always end up saying bad things – and commit typos. But after a few long phone calls and a few hours of trying to make sense of what is happening in the home front (if there still is any), I don’t think I’ll make it through the day without writing it out and probably saying a few mean things. So, dear reader, if you’re not up for some negativity, I suggest you skip this post and wait for my summer trip post (I’m still summing up the effort to make it a good piece).

I woke up to my parents screaming at each other today. Not the best introduction from me, I know, but I just can’t get the thought out of my head. It did not take long for me to figure out what it was about because the problem has already been hanging over our heads for 3 weeks now.

For reasons that I still am not aware of, the house-help has found the balls to be rude and obnoxious to my Mom, my brother and I. This became evident to me the day that she arrived from her yearly vacation that I so kindly booked for her. I don’t know if someone scraped the courtesy out of her when she was there in her home town but she never spoke a ‘Good morning’ or even an ‘I’m back’ when she arrived here. She went straight to her quarters and spent the next 2 days in her bed, apparently sick. Well, she could have just told us we could’ve understood. But, noooo she had the audacity to put on the dramatics on my father. And I ended up being the one scolded. Fucker.

My father became all preachy, telling me that I should have went to the maid and comforted her or whatever (ulo-uluhan). Not in a million years. She’s an employee in this household. She’s over 30 years old and may well enough know what to do when she has a fever – even if she’s a high school drop out. If this was an organization and I did that, or whoever else in this house, then we might as well be all sued for sexual harassment. You don’t baby a 30-year-old. It’s disgusting. And inappropriate. After that, shit became worse.

The succeeding weeks, the maid never opened the gates for Mom, eventually me. But she would open it for my father. Whenever I would come down, she would rush back to her quarters avoiding me. If not, I could feel her glaring daggers at my back, which I gladly returned recently. I could not take it anymore. That week when she took a vacation, the house was left in a shitty state. Rats everywhere, the drainage was clogged, the kitchen counters full of rat shit. That week, I woke up to the reality that I have been living in a shit hole I called home for years and I was too busy with school to even notice.

A few days ago, I told her she did not clean after the gas stove after she cooked and she gave me the excuse that she was just finished ironing the clothes and that she couldn’t wet her hands. I told her that that was always the case. Then she just turned her back to me. It pissed me off but it was not the time.

Yesterday, she talked back. After buying groceries with Mom, I was the one to open the gate and when we were lifting the groceries into the house, I saw her cooking again. I told her after she just looked at me hands full of grocery bags and I had to unhook the lock of the second gate (which is very challenging mind you) that she should make sure to clean up after her mess. That was then she answered back in an octave higher than mine, ‘Yes I would. You won’t have to worry about me anymore at the end of the month’ and it goes on. I just looked at her. In my mind, I was asking myself, ‘I was just reminding her to clean up after her mess because I was cleaning up after her shit for the past 3 weeks and she goes rambling random shit. Not good.’

Well, a couple hours later, Mom went up to me to tell me what she saw when she went down for water. Apparently, the maid went to my father, again, telling what happened, twisting the story and even putting the blame of the mess on us. And Dad ate it all up like she was the star of some sappy afternoon soap opera where the house-maid is oppressed and the employer is always the bad guy and he’s some sort of knight-in-shining armor. Bullshit.

I can’t believe that I’m actually comparing what’s happening in my life to a soap opera. So much for claiming that my life was as boring as it got. Guess not. So we are back to the screaming match this morning because my father sent the maid off to Laguna for the rest of the week. He said the ‘situation’ was stressing him out. Well, he should have never meddled with household affairs. It’s always the wife’s domain.

I have no idea what will happen but I’m thanking God right now that it’s raining, it’s cooling my nerves.

 

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