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So, my sister got my asshat brother to back off on tiling the entire house. Apparently, she has some higher wisdom than I (sarcasm.) I’ve been trying my best to ignore him, so when he called last night, I just handed the phone straight to Mom. Unfortunately, after chatting with her, he told her he wanted to talk to me. So, I had Mom put him on speaker phone so he knew she could be listening in. It’s my new go to way to get him to behave.
But he wanted to tell me—yes, tell me, because that’s what he does, he tells me to do things—as if I fucking work for him—that he wants me to look into getting some plants along the front of the house, now that it is painted, he wants to improve the curb appeal.
So, I’ve been asking myself, what is more important? Curb appeal or Mom’s and my quality of life. Apparently, as far as he is concerned, all that matters is when people drive by the house looks nice from the outside. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been wanting to plant flowers since I moved in, but what rankles me about him telling me to plant flowers is that it’s one more thing on my list of things to do, lining up landscapers.
Landscapers. Electricians. Plumbers. Appliance repairmen. Drywallers. Floor installers. He’s constantly telling me to get quotes on shit. And when I don’t do it immediately, he goes off on me. I’m not his tenant, or his housekeeper or his fucking administrative assistant. I am a full time caregiver for his mother, and my job is way more than 40 hours a week. Again, it’s just me sitting around all damn day, eating bon bons.
So, I came upon a genius idea. I’ll set up quote appointments—while he is in town and I’m in St. Augustine. He thinks I’m incapable of making decision anyway, and he completely disregards that I own half of this house too, and it’s my HOME. He wants appointments, I’ll give him goddamn appointments.
It’ll piss him off royally, but I don’t care.