I was a rented piece of meat.

 When I first moved in with my grandma, she decided it was a cool thing to rent me out.  Okay... Maybe "rent" isn't the right work to use here, because she didn't get paid and I certainly didn't.  Her sister-in-law and friend lives down the street and she decided that I should go down to her house every Thursday and take her trash out.  This was all well and good, but Aunt M would fill her trash bags with everything she could manage to find in the house.  I swear there were bodies in there... I once picked up one of her trash bags and discovered what people meant when they said "I saw stars", instantly there was a popping noise in my lower back and the world went black with a few stars.  My aunt stood there watching me with a mild interest and holding the door, hoping I didn't let flies in.  So I tried to lift the bag a second time and this time my entire body made noises that was almost like classical music.  I realized that in order to get this bag outside I would have to drag it through her house, which I couldn't very well do with her watching.  So I asked her to go get me something and I pulled like I have never pulled before.  Of course I walked funny for about three weeks, but I won and the dumb bag lost.

 Anyway the moral of the story isn't that I am now disabled.  The moral of the story is that my grandmother decided that she would volunteer me to do little tasks for people and it was literally killing me.  So this went on for months until one week I got out of work late, only to discover that those ten minutes were important to my aunt and she took out those boulders on her own.  The second week I had a dinner planned with co-workers and she took her trash out herself..  The week after that I walked down the street to discover she had done it herself again.  I figured this was her way of firing me, but I am sure her version of the story is that I stopped going.  I have asked my grandma since to stop offering my services. 

 As punishment for no longer being a slave to every elderly person in our family, she now builds mountains out of our trash and gives me very detailed instructions on how to take it out.  If there are cardboard boxes, then at least one bag has to sit on top of them.  Of course she tells me this once my shoes are off and I am sighing with relief that it's over.  So I trudge back out and do her bidding.  I know my place in this world... I'm somebody's bitch.