Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Follow up to My Bday Weekend

Originally written in April.

So I finally got the Complaint Call from Crazy, in which she explained how rude she thought we all were, leaving her behind repeatedly on Historical Street and how she "genuinely just wanted to show [us] the stores", and here I was biting her head off. I said the reason I bit her head off when I came back to fetch her at Historical Sweets was for this reason right here: that I knew, at that moment, she would call within the week and lay me out about "walking too fast" and "leaving her behind" and "being rude" and "all she wanted to do was be allowed to shop like everyone else", rather than what she was really doing, which was dragging her feet to make herself look pathetic and have us all running around after her like baby ducks, wondering what would please her to do next, until she declared that she was done shopping and then we'd all be allowed to leave. Because that is exactly what happens every other time.

She of course hates it when I call her on things and blew up, asking how I could possibly assume such a horrible thing, to which I replied that I wasn't new. She then claimed we can all improve our behavior and get along without having to cut off trips entirely, which she rightly guessed I was *thisclose* to doing. All my assertions that we'd been informed she would be catching up to us any moment, by her, somehow were invalidated immediately and the 'misunderstanding' blamed on Beleagured Dad.

Then she sat in silence, waiting for my apology. She's still waiting.

I suppose what I should be thankful for is that she only took 3 days to spin that crap into gold. Heaven only knows what she would have made it sound like if she'd taken til the weekend to work on it. It would probably have been the solution to the country's economic problems and I, being the evil hag that I am, have now dashed it in twain, leaving the country to founder in recession, or something equally dramatic involving Jesus.

The Historical City Saga*, aka, My Bday Weekend

(Originally written April 24)
*Names have been blandified to protect the guilty bloggers. I publish this now because it is approaching her "birthday weekend" during which the Crazy reaches epic proportions. Beware.

Saturday night, we all met at Historical St in Historical City with the goal being to have dinner at Popular Fish Restaurant. First half was fine, though Crazy made Beleagured Dad walk all the way back to the car to get her point-and-shoot camera, despite my brother having his large, professional camera. Dinner was ok, but because we were sitting right where the wind whipped through from the water, Crazy lectured everyone about not having jackets, and asked pointedly if I didn't want my father to ask the waitstaff for a towel or tablecloth to wrap up in. Then she got put out that I didn't and sat sullenly in protest of my not wrapping up like a mummy in public at dinner. The nerve of me!
After dinner, the Crazy really kicked in. She started taking mass amounts of photos (I'm sure they're all just fabulous, since we were totally windblown by then) and announced they were picking up the check... then complained loudly that it was So Expensive. Nobody knew what to do... offer to buy anyway? Say thanks and look abashed? This happens everytime they offer, which thank God is infrequently.
We started walking back, intent on getting some gelato, and she kept falling behind. FAR behind. This is a well-known Crazy Trick--you think you are all walking somewhere together, but if she is not in the lead, dictating your every step, speed, and stop, that means she's behind you, dragging her feet, trying to do the same thing. Only she chooses random speeds so that you can never truly estimate the proper gait to keep her in the group and must continually turn around to check on her, at which point she'll greet you, wherever she is, possibly as far as 2 blocks behind, with a slightly sad smile, like she always knew you were the kind of inconsiderate bastard that leaves your mother wandering the streets of historical cities alone while you selfishly search out the fleshly gratification of ice cream-related products.
I should note that she's very fit and perfectly able to keep up with a normal walking speed. It is 100% intentional.
So, anyway, everyone had to constantly double up to find her, and, I'm sorry, but it was impossible with this many people on the streets. At one point a huge glut of people separates us, and Beleagured Dad runs up to say she's stopped at Historical Sweets and would "catch up." Fine, so we keep trying to find the gelato.
*2 minutes later*

Phone call #1: Where are you guys?

Phone call #2: Ok, we'll catch up with you.

Phone call #3: WHY HAVEN'T YOU COME TO FIND ME. THIS STORE IS AMAZING!

It is at this point that her voice begins to take on an inexplicably loud, slightly stoned quality. I find that people do this when they want to emphasize how magical a moment is when it really isn't. It also has the unfortunate side effect of quashing emotion around them, since you clearly Don't Get how amazing this moment truly is.

Well, we were finally at the end of Very Long Historical Street, with gelato, and had to walk all the way back, only for her to exclaim about the wonders of this store and act like she'd never been there. Hello? We're natives. We've been there.
After several more stops for weird photos ("WOW, WHAT IS THIS FLOWER?!" "Bouganvillia, just like is in the back yard." "LET'S ALL TAKE A PHOTO IN FRONT OF THIS WATER WHEEL!"), we reached the end and she announced that she's never been to Historical City at night because "we" are always trying to hustle her back to the car after dinner, but she loves it there in the evenings. Totally, patently false. We have been to Historical City, a mere 30 minutes from our own city, hundreds of times, possibly more than a thousand, most times at night for hours at a time if she herself wasn't hustling us back to the car for no reason.
20 yards from the car, Crazy tried to organize one last photo of "the bride and groom" which I nixed, because 1. give me a break, 2. we've been married 6 months, 3. I look like crap after 3 hours in the wind, 4. I had horrible cramps which she knew about, and at last we could leave.
The following day wasn't much better, as I was nearly crippled with cramps and a migraine, so of course she wanted to go walk on the beach. On my feet and away from a bathroom: just what I wanted!
Instead I had them all over for lunch, where she was offended that I didn't have enough napkins out for her (8), that I made a 'centerpiece' of chips bags (I set up a buffet on the formal table, but she insisted we move all the food and sit there instead), and that I didn't feel like entertaining everyone for more than 3 hours.
How dare I, right? I spent the rest of the day in bed, freebasing ibuprofen and moaning.
Someone please shoot me.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Let the holiday hell begin

Same day, post inspection, just as I'm finishing dinner prep, phone rings.

Highlight #1:
C: Well, I just thought I'd check in... (tone suggests I should have already called) How much longer did you stay after I left?
Me: Um, not much longer since you stayed until after the inspectors left.
C: Oh! But I saw them give you key!
Me: That's the realtor's key. I locked it up in the box.
C: But you don't get a key?!?!?!
Me: We haven't paid for the house yet, Mom.

Highlight #2:
Me: ...so we ran to the store, then talked to his dad about the results on Skype.
C: *clearly jealous tone* OH?! And when did they get a phone on their computer?!
Me: Um, a few months ago? So we can talk to them?
C: MHMMMM
(I'm still confused about that one, seeing as how, we see my parents all the time.)

Highlight #3:
C: So, you mentioned his parents might visit for Christmas?
Me: Yes, they may, but we don't know.
C: But....... How is that FAIR?!
Me: Fair?
C: You saw them LAST Christmas! And you're going up for Thanksgiving!
Me: We're going up before Thanksgiving and we'll be here for Christmas. They'll be alone on Christmas.
C: But that would only be fair if you didn't see them at ALL last Christmas. And now they'll see you again!!
Me: I thought the point was that WE would be HERE vs. us being there.
C: Well, if you don't care, nobody will care. You're making me sound like a 15 year old!
Me: You do sound like a 15 year old. His parents can visit us if they want.
C: But we won't get to see you alone! They will be involved in everything!
Me: Why does that matter?
C: IT'S NOT FAIR!!!
Me: I have to go. *click*

Inspection Day

My husband and I are in the middle of purchasing a home, and today Crazy and my Beleagured Dad, clamoring like 6 year olds before Christmas, demanded to attend the official inspection. Here are the results:

Crazy was thrilled and got there very early to see the house alone, chatting up even our incredibly verbose realtor and inspector, and pretty much never shut up the entire time. I walked in, the inspector was introducing himself, and Crazy walks right up, grabs me, and says, "Show me the walk-in pantry. Now." She had just looked at it herself. It was empty. It's an empty closet. What is there to show?

The whole time was like that. "Come here. Look at this. Look at that. Walk over here. Show me this. You know what you need to do... What you should do... You know what you MUST do..."

Here was the best suggestion: "You really have to get another stove. I mean, everyone who cooks wishes they had 2 stoves. You could put it RIGHT HERE. Just take out this cabinet."

I was like, "Yet again, totally NOT a priority. As soon as we shell out all of our cash for a down payment, the closing, the floor, a washer drier, blinds, paint, caulk, CHRISTMAS, etc. etc. etc...."

Give me a break. She kept saying they should leave and let us finish up, and yet they didn't walk out the door until after the inspectors left. I could barely get a word in edgewise with the inspector thanks to her.

Friday, September 18, 2009

True cost of home buying *short vent*

The real hidden cost of buying a home isn't anything in the house or having to do with finances, it's the fact that every time I call Crazy with an update, which, as we all know, are mandatory upon penalty of death, the conversation goes like this:

My news + (Her random thoughts about Janet Jackson, the news, Pilates chairs, Home Shopping, church drama, etc. = minutes spent telling her my news x 50 billion) = EVERY CONVERSATION

I even stop responding! It doesn't stop her! She keeps talking!

Last conversation, I timed it. 1 minutes 32 seconds relating the results of our offer being accepted, 24 minutes of her random thoughts including 8 minutes of my not actually responding in any way.