I may be festively plump from sitting in a cube 60+ hrs a week, but I certainly ain't no lady.
Ok, a brief update on the past 3 weeks:
T-Snake did NOT get back together with Cuntessa. Hope can be found in the little miracles of life.
I broke things off with Francisco. Without going into too many details, it turns out there is such thing as the Pink Mafia. Who knew?! And while at first I thought it was kinda cool, it got a little more real than I was comfortable with.
The housemates and I have embarked on a Extreme House Cleaning Extravaganza™. Actually, since I never took a cleaning deposit from them, or a security deposit, or any kind of deposit come to think of it, I've asked them to complete a list of cleaning tasks or pay a $250 special assessment to cover said tasks. It's been a bit of an learning experience, mostly for T-Snake who has apparently never had to clean. Anything. Ever. He actually started dusting the banister by hitting it with a pillow. Yes, he had a pillow fight with the banister. The banister won. The boy needs to lay off the bong and start learning the basics of self survival. OMG, and I'll spare you the details of his logic behind what kinds of paper should be put in the recycling bin. Nutshell version: a cantaloup knows better.
.......This just in....... the word "crunk" has just been added to the dictionary, according to the nightly news. Society is hopeless. .......We now return you to your irregularly scheduled rant..........
Last night the housemates and I went out for sushi. Only because it was sushi did I let myself get talked into going though I really just wanted to stay in and make dinner and watch a DVD. The last time we went to this particular sushi restaurant, Carlos and T-Snake got a bit hammered doing pseudo sake bombs and got a little lax about not belching while eating. It was pretty embarrassing and I don't think they fully realized how much attention they were drawing from the other diners. Last night ended not only in a repeat performance, but with Carlos and I getting into an argument because in his drunken state he only hearing what he wanted to hear. I'll spare you the details, but essentially it was a matter of apples to cinder blocks…two completely different topics but he was not listening to what I was actually saying. AARRGGH!!! It's so frustrating talking to talk logically to someone who's been drinking. After I dropped them off at the house, I hit the road and drove around for several hours into the wee hours of the morning. Probably not the best thing to do with the high cost of gas; I used 3/4 of my tank.
This is become an recurring issue between Carlos and myself and I'm completely exhausted by it. Between frequently drinking and smoking pot, I no longer want to be around him, which is quite a contrast to the past 7 years. He's increasingly critical of what I do in my own house, and becomes bitingly defensive when similar actions are noted about him. T-Snake tends to exacerbate the problem by egging Carlos into smoking out with him, and then the self-centered, single-minded thinking intensifies. All those "you're a different person when you smoke pot" PSAs on TV are based in reality no matter how corny they come across. While I've hinted at putting the house up for sale and getting a place of my own here on the blog, I've never told them. And while Carlos might read this, I no longer care. I think the fat lady has indeed sung (and yes, that's the best "fat lady opera singer" photo I could find on iStockphoto!) because I'm so utterly over this situation that I'm finding myself spiraling into a depression because I can't sell this place and find a new place on my own fast enough. Actually, I've already visited a couple great 1br/1ba condos and lofts that I can afford and have been consulting with an RE agent, but the timing is just not right. There's a lot of work that needs to be done on the house to bring it up to market standards and it's a daunting challenging for one person to do it alone. The boys are renting from me for way below the rental market rate (they're only paying 17% of what I pay each month), yet there's this increasing sense of entitlement, that I should be the one buying furniture they want for the house, that I should provide them with cleaning supplies, etc. I'm so fucking tired of it. If I could afford to keep this place by myself I would ask them both to move on. And while an easy option would be to just get new roommates, I don't want the added responsibility of being a landlord, nor do I want the constant worry that keeps me up at night that they might set the house on fire, or in some other way, significantly damage the house. The stress is too much to bear sometimes. It's times like these that I question my decision to stop drinking.
Special thanks to Betty and Becks (I hope I'm being consistent with my aliases here, it's been a looooong time since I've posted) for keeping me as cheery as possible.
Well, that was therapeutic. OK, I'm tired of all this negativity and I need to go to bed as I have to give Betty a lift in the morning.
Carlos found them under my car when he was headed out to the gym. They're adorable but obviously strays. Three different sizes, from smallest to biggest they've already been named. Pixel, the tiniest looks like a feline version of a chihuahua; Widget is the one looking at the camera and was the most timid to start with, but was the most eager to jump out of the box and loves being snuggled; and Spike looks like the leader of the bunch with a quiet strength. Tomorrow we'll be taking them in to Animal Rescue to get them checked out. We'd like to keep them, though I'm not sure how ready, or able, we are to take care of three helpless creatures when its a struggle just to take care of ourselves at times.
