Groooaaan it's Wednesday again already? That must mean I was woken up way too early to watch a way too sooky princess and my green eyed toddler. Wednesday is normally pay day but the public holiday on Monday took care of that for me, meaning I am stressing over four unpaid (and now overdue) bills. I don't have two car seats or a double pram today so I'm a prisoner until 6pm. I've already dealt with a plethora of fights, tears and tantrums this morning (some my own). Basically I hate today already and it's only 9:30.
Yesterday Ricko and I were both home with the two kids, and it gave me a chance to convince him of how stressed I am without his sister being able to butt in. It is now pretty clear to me that he's just as stressed, and I'm glad he took me seriously enough to approach her about it. He sent her a text at work simply saying "When will you be moving out? It's been 8 weeks and you haven't said anything so we need to know". When she got home she asked who sent it (I was busy cleaning the bathroom but she knew I was listening) and proceeded to get her knickers in a knot about the whole thing. She said "I told Amy it would be around five weeks and that I'd pay rent in a few weeks" which is flat out untrue - the rent bit isn't but the time frame bit is. Then she went on to say it's only been five weeks and if it's a problem she'll move out as soon as she can even though she has no money and has no way of paying a bond or rent in a house. Basically it was a big self involved sorry fest in which the only thing we said (I joined in eventually) was that she isn't being asked to leave, we just want to be kept informed. What I really wanted to say is this:
Lady, it's been NINE weeks and FOUR days since you came with bags of your stuff and moved into our spare room. You have since come and gone as you please, spending up to five days away at one point. That doesn't mean you get to count the time you're here; your crap is taking up our space so that counts. In these NINE weeks and FOUR days you have paid exactly nothing in rent. You have brought home a cooked chook to share one time for dinner, and on two other occasions made your own dinner. Every other night of your living here you've happily eaten our home cooked meals. You use our laundry for your cloth nappies, and after asking several times that you soak them in a bucket of antibacterial solution first it's actually taken us supplying you with the bucket and napisan for you to do it. I shouldn't be surprised seeing as I supply your laundry powder and softner anyway. I am surprised that you still don't soak them properly. Every time I use my own washing machine I gag at the stench.
Then there's the other stuff; the small stuff that could've been easily discussed and diffused but instead has been left to fester into full blown war-causing issues. The dog that's in my back yard doing giant poos and barking all day and night. The birds that are in my spare room that have made the entire first level of the house smell (except for the laundry, as mentioned it smells like poo of the human variety). The baby that we agreed to watch for a fortnight on our days off that we're now stuck with indefinately. I mean really, who does this sort of thing to their own family? Who moves in and brings unmentioned pets and doesn't pay for a single thing and expects you to babysit their kid without discussing it? And if they really did all that, would they really think it's their place to insist you use cloth nappies on their baby for them?
I am losing my fucking mind.
I am going to see a doctor on Thursday because I really feel like I have lost the ability to be happy. It should never have come to this. I would never treat anyone like this.