Operation Curry

I never disliked the wife of the landlord couple. I pitied her--she's easy to talk to and seems intelligent but she married a dorky, doughy, uninteresting, spineless nerd of a man and every conversation we've had has hinted at some unhappiness or overall incompatibility. I could also empathize with their precarious financial situation.

And although I'm inconvenienced by them selling, I wanted them to sell the house. I've showed it 3 to 4 times a week (total fucking nightmare), had strangers wake up my napping child, been forced to clean up so it's "showing ready" every other day and have been civil to their total asshole of a real estate agent.

But yesterday she called Mr. Ashley to make an appointment for today and Saturday. Knowing I may still be wallowing, Mr. Ashley said I was sick and that we could do them all Saturday. She said no, absolutely not, she wouldn't reschedule.

So Mr. Ashley said I had the stomach flu and was vomiting all day (a lie, but screw them--I deserve a day off and if they force me to lie to get it, that's fine) and she said she didn't care, wouldn't reschedule, people were coming and that was that.

So Mr. Ashley pointed out that we were leaving A MONTH early since this was such a nightmare for everyone, despite paying for that vacant month since our lease isn't up, and that this was extremely insensitive. He assured her that the house would be a complete mess and that I may be unable to get out of bed.

"That's okay, she doesn't have to clean up or get out of bed."

If, as a fellow mother especially, you can tell someone who you believe to have the stomach flu that you INSIST that they let strangers traipse through their (imaginary) sick room despite them bending over backward to accommodate you and your constant bullshit--then you are the c-word.

We get the keys to the new house tomorrow. I was going to make this place immaculate, tell the realtor to show it whenever he wanted and sigh a big breath of relief to have it all behind me.

But now? Cleaning won't happen until the last weekend of March, boxes and newspaper will be everywhere (even if I have to bring in boxes and newspapers that I don't need), I will require 24 hours notice as per my lease and I will visit the house several times a week to boil a little curry and cumin on the stove.

Fuckers.

Don't screw with a woman that needs time to wallow.