Cousin Dearest wants me to fix Grandma’s flat before I rent it. No fucking way: I’m fixing it as part of the rental agreement, and Grandma is perfectly happy about that.
Cousin Dearest has asked “a trustworthy electrician” for an electrical budget. Under the table.
Cousin Dearest has asked “a trustworthy bricklayer” for a wall-work budget. Under the table.
Cousin Dearest was aiming to rent Grandma’s flat to “someone trustworthy”, namely her boyfriend, whose second job consists of being an accountant. Under the table, of course.
I get paid above the table, money I spend on this above the table will be deductible, the only place I’d trust anybody who’s a friend of Cousin Dearest is at the bottom of the ocean (and we’d have to put a “poison” warning on them) and I’m seriously considering hitting Cousin Dearest with Grandma’s table. Pity the table is damn heavy and the room isn’t big enough to swing it around
Cousin Dearest the law-degree-holder was also thinking she’d “just use one of your” (i.e. mine) “old rental contracts as a model” for this one. Apparently there isn’t any other source for contract models, you see :rolleyes: Nope, that’s going via an agent… and above the fucking table.
Lawd yesss! I try to find Non-Breeder Resorts when we travel, as in, adults only, for this very reason. Its bad enough they bring the whole screaming herd on the plane.
It would be nice if there was some signage to the effect: “Adults Only in This Soaking Pool After XXXXPM”, but hotels dont want to offend the paying customers I guess. Obnoxious as they are.
I genuinely believe that MPSIMS should be hidden for the first 30 days or so of any new membership so newcomers don’t think that everybody here is retarded. Cite: every single “hi, I’m new here” thread ever.
Also, red wine makes me bitchy and very “hey, I don’t give a fuck!” at the same time. I bitched about fat chicks on my Facebook a few nights ago and said flat out I don’t care if it’s offensive. Same with this post. I know there’s a fair bit of overlap between these threads and the “hurr, who brought the squid?!” crowd and I really just don’t care.
White wine makes me cuddly. I still like red better.
Dammit, just discovered that someone siphoned all the gas out of the ATV, and that they apparently stole a brand-new jerry can to do so. I’m guessing that must have been while we were out of town for Christmas, because I can’t see someone doing that while the dogs are here. Assholes.
My kid is sick. It’s not too bad - sore throat, low fever, achy. He’s home from school, obviously. So it sucks that he’s not feeling well, but he won’t even let me take care of him.
Me: Ack! Why are you up? What are you doing?
Kid: I was hungry so I’m making some soup.
Me: I said I would do that for you! I’m your mom, let me do it.
Kid: I feel bad having you wait on me.
Me: But I’m THE MOM! It’s my job when you’re sick to take care of you.
Kid: But I’m not that sick and you were doing stuff (the stuff was laundry and knitting, not important stuff).
He was very rarely sick when he was little and I’m really thankful for that. Now that he’s 15 and 6 ft tall, I guess I still want to baby him, and he’s ready to be independent. I should be glad, but I’m a little sad that he won’t let me take care of him. It’s silly, I know. His future wife/girlfriends will be pleased, I think, that they don’t have one of those guys who falls to pieces and can’t function the moment they get a sniffle.
Please please please encourage him to behave exactly as he is today. My poor husband has had the Man Flu lately. It’s exactly the flu I had when I filled Christmas stockings and cooked a holiday meal and fed, clothed, mothered four children and two dogs, cuddled and doctored a couple of sick little girls, finished DIY projects at the new house, packed boxes, signed school paperwork… and brought meals in bed, found TV remotes that migrated into the sheets, made a store run for different bath tissue, (because the 12 rolls I bought weren’t quite cushy enough for his tushie,) etc.
The flu sucks, but the Man Flu sucks a whole lot more.
Too independent isn’t great, either. My husband just wants to be left alone when ill, I want to take care of him. To make things worse, I’d appreciate a mild-to-moderate amount of care and sympathy when ill, but he gives me the treatment he’d want, which is “leave the sick person alone”.
Look, as a guy, I’ll tell you that most men ignore minor illnesses and keep soldiering on through moderate illnesses. So if we’re laid out, it’s because we’re actually laid out by it. We’re not pretending, we’re not exaggerating it.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to work with some combination of serious pain, incoherence, high fever, wracking cough, deep fatigue, etc. Especially when I lived paycheck to paycheck and didn’t have sick time. I fucking went, unless I physically could not.
Female here, but I’m also one of those people who just soldier on when I’m sick or hurt. During the early part of our relationship, my not-yet husband had a quad-bypass. I flew out to be with him and he was a very easy patient, but while I was there when needed, I gave him the level of care that I would have wanted. He later told me that I did just what he wanted and needed.
(Of course this did include helping him get into shape so he could climb 3 flights of stairs, so we could have sex. Doctor’s orders and all.)
He’s not nearly so nice when I’m sick. He just won’t leave me alone. Do I want soup, do I want some juice/tea/cold water, should the change the heat/AC, do I need blankets, should he keep the cats out, are the light levels OK, etc., etc., ETC!!!
Makes me totally nuts, but I do kinda understand. His wife of 30 years died of cancer. He loved and cared for her until the end.
This is why I didn’t shoot him when I had a migraine last month. Well, that and the part about the lightshow being so intense that I couldn’t see well enough to point gun or even fling a cat at him. I sure did think about violence and bloodshed, though.
It is 44.8ºc outside but I still had jobs to do (like try and save some plants) so now I have prickly heat and I wish to scratch my entire epidermis off.
Is it really so difficult to say two more syllables?
