I went and bought paint. Misty beige. Neutral and NOT pepto bismol pink like my husband and his friend painted my living room when I was not here. So I tell Bob (not protecting his name because he is not innocent here) I sat the big guy down and explained, in english...
Me: Honey my mother died in this house, I am 47 years old and have been waiting 13 years for you to be 'ready to move' and I don't want to be 70 and have the big move be to a freaking nursing home. We have to fix the house up and sell it.
Bob: I have no problem fixing the house up and selling it, we'll put this one on the market just as soon as you sell the two houses your mother left you and get us another house. I'm not going to lose 'MY HOME'.
fade to
Me in the kitchen.
Bob and Shawn (daughter Katie's version of Bob) and Chris (the Pepto offender mentioned earlier) go into the livingroom and start putting holes in the walls we just finished painting. They mount the TV on the wall, which is fine but THEN they put two of the many BOSE speakers on the wall. On either side of the TV. (mind you there are ALOT more speakers that go with this 'set'.
I get mad. Bob wants to know why. I tell him, that in order to sell this dump we have to decorate appropriately. Did we learn NOTHING watching HGTV??? He says "These are an expensive surround sound system!"
I say "I can go spend a couple thousand dollars on a gold and diamond grill for my teeth, it will be expensive, but will anyone want to see it?"
He gets up and proceeds to finish putzing around the livingroom. In his world the conversation is over and we are stuck with these 'render the house unsellable speakers' and in my world he strokes out dies and I hire someone to come in and patch the holes in the wall I made while ripping the speakers out of it after Bob's funeral. I did not get my wish and he then proceeded to saw the back off the NEW entertainment center so his ginormous components that we never use and don't need will fit.
Of course he thinks this is my hormones kicking in and I will just learn to love it.
I hate him right now.
That's all.
Me: Honey my mother died in this house, I am 47 years old and have been waiting 13 years for you to be 'ready to move' and I don't want to be 70 and have the big move be to a freaking nursing home. We have to fix the house up and sell it.
Bob: I have no problem fixing the house up and selling it, we'll put this one on the market just as soon as you sell the two houses your mother left you and get us another house. I'm not going to lose 'MY HOME'.
fade to
Me in the kitchen.
Bob and Shawn (daughter Katie's version of Bob) and Chris (the Pepto offender mentioned earlier) go into the livingroom and start putting holes in the walls we just finished painting. They mount the TV on the wall, which is fine but THEN they put two of the many BOSE speakers on the wall. On either side of the TV. (mind you there are ALOT more speakers that go with this 'set'.
I get mad. Bob wants to know why. I tell him, that in order to sell this dump we have to decorate appropriately. Did we learn NOTHING watching HGTV??? He says "These are an expensive surround sound system!"
I say "I can go spend a couple thousand dollars on a gold and diamond grill for my teeth, it will be expensive, but will anyone want to see it?"
He gets up and proceeds to finish putzing around the livingroom. In his world the conversation is over and we are stuck with these 'render the house unsellable speakers' and in my world he strokes out dies and I hire someone to come in and patch the holes in the wall I made while ripping the speakers out of it after Bob's funeral. I did not get my wish and he then proceeded to saw the back off the NEW entertainment center so his ginormous components that we never use and don't need will fit.
Of course he thinks this is my hormones kicking in and I will just learn to love it.
I hate him right now.
That's all.
*sigh* Dahhhlink, thy place in heaven is Guaranteed! There will be no stopping at the Gate to talk to St. Peter. He will look at you, then your chart and say, "Go right in St. Lisa!"
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