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I signed up for Twitter. This could be very, very lame.

Anne Ramsey

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Some of my earliest memories of my father’s mother are of her begging us for something. She had a sense of entitlement when it came to family, that her kids HAD to take care of her, no matter how she behaved, just because they were her kids.

I remember her moving in with us when I was a wee one, expecting us to care for her when we could barely afford ourselves. My brother and I had to share a room as his was converted into hers. She never left it, preferring to sit in front of her TV eating all day. She didn’t bring in any income at all. After a while, my dad kicked her out, and she moved in with another one of her kids.
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