Seriously? Seriously??
You know, in previous threads I’ve given her the benefit, noted her “unwellness”, and wondered where her family/friends/therapists were, and why they weren’t helping.
But the past few days have finished me. Completely.
Where should I start?
...cancer cookbooks. Ouchy mouth.
...duck-off sized Smeg. Cotswold Co BIG dresser. housed in her Tiny crappy bungalow, which she can redecorate and knock around at will.
... definite ED/SH inspo/triggering
... oooh tiny little pixie waif scampering to Tesco in a dress-up shopping costume without a mask despite the “immunocompromised” status, making a chaos.
... give me suggestions/don’t dare give me advice on multiple platforms. Also tell me what to write/don’t dare tell me my “job”
... the constant turmoil of lies, clearly and easily disproven despite the Tweet/Delete cycle, that not even she can keep straight.
... the continuing begging despite clear evidence to the contrary (see above re Smeg & dresser and previous notes on“investment wardrobe” and multiple Burberry purchases).
... the wailing about lack of financial stability and hone owning in light of the point above.
... the ailments - god the ailments.
...the list of all the jobs in the world she’s done. I’ll tell you this - looking at the hoarder’s pharmaceutical shelf on the windowsill of the bathroom, it’s obvious that her pharmacy job was straightening the Yardley gift sets and restocking scrunchies because she has NOT got even the most basic drug handling knowledge.
...the crashing in here, to achieve what exactly?
...the kitten, god that little kitten.
NOTE: this is all since WEDNESDAY. It’s Saturday morning.
Can she not see this? The Jacolytes? How clearly and obviously manipulative does she have to be for the scales to fall from all eyes?