Okay, learned my lesson.  Never, ever, write a comment on Facebook that mentions another person.  Even if the comment is only meant to be poking fun at myself.

Little more exposition.  This weekend my mother sent me a message saying that I was too negative on Facebook and she wanted me to try and be more positive.  I sort of laughed at it, because yes, I’m a fairly negative poster.  I only post about the unexpected things, and generally, unexpected things are negative.  You don’t find a new flat every day, and certainly don’t buy new things.  But bad weather, being broke and moving issues are definitely unexpected and the main source of my comments.

That, and I’ve always been something of a negative person.  I do expect goods things to happen – but because I expect them I don’t consider them news – so I do come across as a bit of a pessimist.  My old journal even had that in its title.

So, since it made me giggle, I posted that my mother wanted me to be more positive and mentioned my former journal’s name, knowing my friends would probably get it – it was just poking fun at my own habits.

This morning, I get a private message from mum complaining about getting publicly humiliated for trying to give me more positive vibes.  Okay…now that I’ve looked at it half a dozen times I guess I can see why she took offence, but think she overreacted.  Least I’ve learned my lesson.

Now, if she’d left it at that, I would still felt she was overreacting, but would have accepted it upset her and apologised.  But then she did something that put me in a foul mood.  She brought up how negative my move must have been without someone to help me.  And how she’d helped me move several times and not any other immediate family member plus some profanity about said family member.  Then posted in my public account about how certain family member wasn’t giving me any help.

NO. NO.  That is Godwin’s Law in our family.  You do not talk about Dad, and Dad does not talk about you.  Ever.  And you definitely don’t bring it into a little thing like this.  It’s the number one way to make me livid.  Also, she helped me move once.  All the other times it was the Stepfather and his work van that shifted me from place to place.

Also, course Dad hasn’t helped.  I call him maybe once every 2 months since he’s so hard to get a hold of – the joy of working offshore.  As such, he doesn’t even know I’ve moved yet!  Had I had more time, and asked him, I’m sure he would have been happy to help.  And for all my complaints about money, I’m not so bad off that I need to beg Daddy dearest for help just yet – both of them raised me better than that.

There’s also the added fact that if Dad did help, I’d be forced to endure his sense of humour and snark about my volume of stuff, like he did the last time he helped me move – yes mother, he did help once – and frankly, paying for a man with a van was worth not having to deal with that again.

Now I have to sigh and try to relax.  I know I’m making way too big a deal out of this.  Mum probably wasn’t even as upset as she made out to be – and I don’t think she even realises how angry it makes me when the two of them badmouth each other.  Once would think by now it would be obvious, but their relationship has never been considered something my brother and I ever need to understand.  Still, going to hold off from calling her until I’ve cooled down and her ire has downed.  And probably call my Dad too.