The One Where I’m a Bitch

A friend of mine is staying with us, and she has exceeded her welcome.

I feel like such a bitch, but I am beyond ready for her to go. I feel even worse, since a huge part of why she hasn’t been able to move yet is due to her credit that got screwed up by her abusive ex-husband.

The deal is, she was supposed to be here a month, two months, max. She’s been here since August. And really, Hubs and I expected two months in order for her to save up enough and find an apartment of her own. However, due to back-rent on her last place, and even with a letter from the apartment management company attesting to the debt being the ex’s and not her own, the places she applied to live still wouldn’t accept her. She’s since gotten approval and is supposed to be moving into a place mid-January/February.

This is why that date can’t get here soon enough:

She works from home, and my house is a mess. I don’t expect her to clean up after us, but I think it’s damn ridiculous that she doesn’t clean up after herself. Twice, I’ve had to move her clothes from the washer to the dryer…because she’d thrown a load in early in the day and left it in the wash while she went somewhere. She makes loud, smelly food, and I had to ask her to open the window when she cooks, because that shit is pungent and it permeates the house. Her laptop, keys, pen, glass she drank out of, watch, and ON AND ON AND ON take up permanent residence on the kitchen counter/kitchen table/dining room table until I move them. She cleaned out her room one day, threw a bunch of stuff into the recycling bin, and left the bin overflowing. I mean, seriously, I walked by and knocked about three soda bottles onto the floor. Are you shitting me? You’ve left a mess for me to clean up?! I already have to clean up after the Hubs and Kidlet – I ain’t cleaning behind nobody that didn’t either put a ring on it or spend 10 months cooking in my womb. I come home and constantly have to dump the trash and recycling, because even though she’s here looking at it all day, it apparently doesn’t bother her that there’s either no more room for refuse or the refuse is spilling out the damn container. And I’m rather tired of her conversations with my husband. Now, I do NOT believe she is flirting with him, nor do I suspect she would ever try. But I’m oh so ready to say “bitch, get your laughing ass out of my husband’s face.” Basically, everything she does, no matter how minor, has me hot. I know I’m being petty. I know I’m being irrational. And I hate feeling sour towards her. Isn’t that the meaning of friendship – being patient, especially when she’s been trying her best to change her fucked up situation, that’s really not her fault?

God, I’m a horrible person.

Bitchy – party of one? L

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