So I promised you the moving woes of Scrub & Company (adequately named by Scrub's husband, Big Daddy) and of our mom and dad.
Here Dickhead and I were, dodging the moving bullet by being out of town the weekend the big fucking move should have happened. And then we get a phone call.
First, Scrub's closing in TX was a fucking nightmare. The day before they were to sign the closing paperwork and move here their agent called with news that the buyer's lender fucked up and things were on hold. Their shit was already packed on the moving truck and ready to roll as they were going to close on the new home in two days. Were. That shit got put on hold, too.
So Scrub & Company rented their TX house to the buyers, stayed in a hotel down there for a few nights, then headed on up and camped out...NOT at the Bitch household. My response to her request was something like this:
"Hell to the fuck no. Sorry little sis, but your cats aren't declawed like Princess Fiona and they aren't going to tear my shit up. Get a goddamn hotel room until you can board those fur balls. Then you'll be welcome to stay here."
Scrub & Company hit up a hotel until they could work out an arrangement to rent the house they were planning to buy here. The day they moved into the house was the day our parents closed on their home and began the five hour drive here. Their plans were to rent an apartment as they wanted to be snow birds.
I was stressed as a motherfucker dealing with all this drama - yeah yeah blah blah blah, Scrub was probably the stressed one, don't judge me motherfuckers - so I went for a manicure. Halfway through it my phone rings. Against better judgment I answered.
Scrub was in a panic. Our parents apartment had been rented out from under them. The apartment manager tried the old bait and switch. The next apartment was not available for 12 more days and cost more. I waited for her to drop the bomb I knew was coming:
"Can they stay with you. The movers are only halfway done unloading our truck so they can't stay here! I'll help you help them find a place...please please please!"
I told her she better start Googling shit and hung up. Yeah, I'm a Bitch. Here's your cookie for figuring that out.
Long story short on that part, my parents stayed in my house for few nights. Each morning I handed them potential places to check out. Again, yes I know I'm a Bitch. On the 3rd day while my parents were out looking, my sister calls.
I always know the conversation is going to be interesting when she laughs nervously and says, "You're going to think I'm crazy."
She didn't have to go any further. I knew that bat shit crazy Scrub was letting our parents move into her house. The gates of heaven opened and the sun shined down on my house as I laughed with joy that they were leaving my home. True, Scrub's house is less than a mile away, but IT'S A MILE AWAY!
Having my mom and dad here was like adding fucking teenagers to my household. They didn't clean up after themselves, they ate all the goddamn food in the pantry, dishes were left on the table. This is my house, not a motherfucking Bed & Breakfast! So yeah, I've done a happy dance each night they've been gone. And while I drank heavily while they were here so I could cope with the stress, I'm now drinking heavily with relief that they've been gone two nights. TWO nights of them living with Scrub, and she's already losing it. Haha sucker! Blame yourself.