Suppose it’s time for another update.
Mom’s lap band surgery has come and gone. All in all most of my worries were unwarranted. The procedure took at most an hour and a half, and she was home the next day. I think I felt worse about it than she did. She’s very excited about the future, at least in this respect, and keeps insisting that I have the same thing done soon. I don’t think that’ll be happening though. Getting surgery is both frightening and “the easy way out” as I see it. Not that I begrudge my mom a bit for it, she deserves to feel as good as she can about herself. I’m 23, I shouldn’t have to resort to being cut open to get this done if I reaaaaaally wanted to.
When we moved my sister and her husband out of their place we did so in a rather slipshod fashion. We had to be out that day, and we had only so much room to carry things with us. As such, we left the place in a state I can only describe as maddeningly disgusting. Even when we got there that morning there were still dirty plates and such in the sink, awaiting their cleaning. It was frustrating, to say the least. We got out of there in time but we left a lot of trash and unwanted furniture behind that the owners were going to have to dispose of. I expected a bill would come our way and sure enough, it did the other day. I will not disclose the price but suffice it to say there are a few zeroes on there. Funnily enough most of the cost didn’t come from the trash and furniture removal, but having to repaint the walls and replace the ENTIRE carpet because of (and I quote) “urine damage.” I’m assuming that’s from the dog. I really, really hope it’s the dog. In any case, it proves that they are really just tremendous slobs and they were there for four months. The idea of them moving out of here is laughable, because they have proven they cannot live anywhere on their own without destroying the place. I also will not help them move another time. I have a cooldown for this shit. And I certainly won’t do it when they most likely will get kicked out five months down the road in some sort of eviction ballet.
I wish people would shut up about the Super Bowl.