My research and vacation to Maine was a bloody nightmare.
Two members of my family b**ched the entire time about anything and everything: the potholes in the road, the fog, the temperature disparities, the lack of "things to do," (even though my mother and I prepared a list of twenty activities that would interest them), the insects, the pizza at the local chain, and everything. Worse, I received all of the blame for their perceived slights: hardly an hour would go by before one of them would slide in a "we're here because of you," in the conversation.
I wanted to correct them that they turned my research trip into a family vacation. I was planning to lodge at the university and travel up with a friend.
But, what I received was a week in hell. I was supposed to be having the time of my life - examining King's manuscripts-but, instead I left and exited Orono under a strain that would have fractured the sanity of any normal person.
So, I had one of my dreams nearly destroyed under a torrent of verbal napalm.
I'll never be able to go back up to Maine again, and hence my accumulative memory is going to be saturated under a loop of bitter complaints.