“And his family… Oh my God, that horrible family, can you imagine…”
I began to mutter all the placating phrases I could muster, hoping I could conjure enough variety to keep her from directly addressing me.
Luckily, she rattled on until even humoring her was more than I could stand. She noticed the silence and, with what seemed like a new development; what I might call the early signs of tact if I were more optimistic, decided to let me go.
She’s neither the villain I’ve made her out to be in the past, nor the martyr that she’d claim. She has and always will be trapped in a vortex of conflicting priorities, excuses, and distractions. None of this is helped by her overwhelming senselessness, and the products of this frustrating concoction are apparent to anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with her.
Either way, she’s becoming less and less of my problem, and dwelling on the matter any longer would betray the powerful sense of hope I feel that in a year or two, I’ll have a guilt free excuse to have removed her from my mind.