SINGLE FAMILY Dwelling December 29, 2013Posted by Rusty in Uncategorized.
Tags: bitchy, breakdowns, family, hiding, holed up, living with a stranger, overwhelmed, raising grandchildren, supporting two families, tired, unimpressed
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I live in a single family dwelling. I think. It was not designed for housing two families. However, for the past six years it has housed two families. There’s back story, of course.
So, Brock has a new wife. They met online and were talking for about 8 months. She was in another country working on her dissertation. When the semester was up she came back here to meet him for the first time in person. She was supposedly going to stay with a friend across town, but as per usual, a glitch arose. Said friend moved to some other state (out of the blue) the weekend of Faith’s arrival. We stipulated many, many times, over and over again, we were NOT moving another individual into this household. Don’t care if you are married or not, we can NOT fit another person in this house.
Yeah. Another person in the house. “It will just be a few weeks until we can get a place.” We’re working on the third month now. I’m so over empty promises and feeling pushed out of my own home by non rent paying, mostly ungrateful offspring.
It’s so difficult sharing the kitchen, especially, and even more so, because it’s the holiday season. If it were Nicole, I could say “Get yer ass outta my kitchen, I need to be in there,” and she’d laugh and move on out. However, I do not know the new wife very well (They got married on 11-12) so I can’t really say anything. It would be one thing if she got in there and made a sammy, sat down and ate … but every meal is a freaking production and (I am NOT exaggerating) takes nearly an hour and a half OR MORE to completion. If that’s not bad enough … she eats every two hours. Can you say “Momma is banished from her own kitchen?” The kitchen is not big enough for two people to be in there creating two different meals. Hell, it’s barely big enough for one person to create a meal. Heh, I jest, but only a tad.
I’m not done bitching yet.
Before she moved in, we barely had enough room in the fridge. (See “three extra faces to feed” in my SINGLE FAMILY dwelling.) Now it’s come down to my food being thrown away. I had lovely leftover salad in there that was my dinner when everyone else was having pizza. Tossed in the trash. Grrrr. I imagine there wasn’t enough room for her case of special yogurt, the tiny bottles of drinkable cultures, or her lactose free milk. I’m sorry. If you need more space, feel free to buy yourself a new fridge and plug it in on the back porch!! Don’t toss my stuff out, I’m Not Done Eating It, thankyouverymuch. Leave my pantry alone, too. If you feel the need to put your never-ending organizational skills to work I suggest you go GET YOUR OWN PLACE. Thanks, too, for taking over my veggie basket on the counter so I can’t even use it for MY veggies. Much appreciated.
Am I bitter? Hell yes, you bet your pretty pink frilly tutu, I am bitter.
I didn’t want her to move in here in the first place. I think, under different circumstances, I would be dealing with this better – say – the house they were living in had burned to the ground. Being forced to live with someone you don’t even know on the spur of the moment was unfair, and Brock should have never put us on the spot. Don’t get me wrong, she is a lovely young lady. Sweet, has a good sense of humor, and she is helpful. I just don’t want to live with her. Or Brock. Or the grandkids. It’s TIME. Time to move on, get out, get on your own and take responsibility for your kids, your wife, your life.
I want him to buy his own coffee, and see how quickly he goes from 4 pots of coffee a day down to one, because that shit is expensive; but honey badger don’t care, because Mommy and Daddy dearest foot that bill. I want him to buy his own laundry detergent, and dryer sheets, and see how fast the three loads a day gets reduced to three every three days. (OK, I may have exaggerated that a bit, I don’t really think they do wash EVERY day. But most days!) I want him to buy his own ketchup, mustard, soy sauce and spices. I want him to be shocked by the electric and water and gas bills – and then have to pay them all.
I had a major emotional breakdown a few days ago. I felt horrible for how I was feeling about his little family. I’ve just gotten to the point that I am tired of them living here, tired of footing the bills, and helping raise grandchildren that I should be enjoying … not raising. It was one of those sobbing-so-hard-you-can’t-breathe-or-talk breakdowns. I shouldn’t dread being in my own home. I’ve taken to basically staying locked up in my bedroom now that Christmas is over and I don’t have “things” needing to be done.
I was going to apologize for being a bitch, for hiding from life in my bedroom, but it’s been six years. I’m tired. So very, very tired. I’ve earned the right to bitchiness. At least for the time it’s taken me to write this.
New rant …. wth is up with wordpress? The punctuation is all “Off.” Gone are the double spaces I tapped in after periods and single spaces after commas. I’m too tired to sit here and fix every missing space. I want to see things as I have typed them! Rant over.