Life is rediculous. I like my family far better from a distance. Fifteen minutes ago started yell at me while I was making cookies, because I used the "wrong butter!" Apparently it was old. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the butter. I said that maybe someone should remove the bad food from the refidgerator, so that the next time, unlike the last time I made popcorn, maybe I wouldn't use it. Does this seem irrational to any of you? Then she yelled a bit more about being a terrible mother and how I never want any help and how she's so evil and whatnot, and I didn't really listen because this is a weekly occurance. Then she put her coat on, announced that she wasn't taking care of us anymore and slammed the door.

It looks like I'll be making dinner tonight.