Nothing To Call My Own

It's really hard to have anything of my own around this Mansion. Farmer H takes everything! EVERYTHING! He's done it for so long, and so often, that it's almost become a joke. Nothing is safe from is clutches. He helps himself. If it's in the Mansion, he feels entitled to claim it.

You know he was taking my Tide squares that I use to wash my leg wraps and their compression socks. I bought that kind of detergent especially for that reason, because it has no bleach, like the regular powdered Tide we use. Any space he sees open in FRIG II is where he puts something away, like his snacks or Diet Mountain Dew. Even if it's a space just made because I set something out for him to use, and will be returning it. Now he's been using my OPC (Old People Chair), saying his recliner is painful the get out of.

"Can I have NOTHING of my own in this house? Why do you have to take EVERYTHING!"

"It's just a chair. You ain't sittin' in it right now."

"No. But you'll wear it out! I need it to sit in for my leg pumps. You'll wear out the automatic control thingy. Or you'll get grease all over the arms from your snacky hands. Or make the back discolored from your sweaty head. Look at your recliner! I don't mind if you sit there a couple hours when you get home. But not all the time I'm not in it!"

That's another thing. I have my little box of stuff on the table beside my OPC. The other day, Farmer H spilled his bottle of water on the table.

"Don't worry. I got it cleaned up with these little pieces of paper towel."

"MY paper towels? That I have there for cleaning my glasses? CAN I HAVE NOTHING OF MY OWN IN THIS HOUSE???"

"HM. It's just paper towels. You can put more in here."

Even when we're not in the Mansion, Farmer H takes my stuff. He drove swove me to my regular doctor appointment on Thursday. Came inside to wait with me. I was out of the appointment, and waiting for the lab. I handed Farmer H the printout I had from the visit, with my vitals and what was discussed and the date and time of my next appointment. It was four stapled pages. I didn't bring in my purse. The lab technician called my name.

"Here. Hold this for me so I don't have to carry it."

When I came back out, my paperwork was rolled up into a tube.

"CAN I HAVE NOTHING OF MY OWN???" I had to hiss-whisper this time, because of witnesses.