I think you should be able to get that hotel $$ back.
If she booked on-line, a lot of them collect the money up-front so you are on the line to show up and stay; so getting a refund may not be that easy.
And JcWoman, can you check his birth certificate? It doesn’t sound like you married and adult there…
Set a pack of crazed chihuahuas on his ass. No court would convict you.
Blame Lacunae Matata’s Drama Family for projecting their evil spirits into your usually normal Hubby. (Unless this isn’t the first time, then sic the aforementioned pack of yappy dogs on his ass.)
Missy is now sneezing up a storm. Why couldn’t the rotten cat show symptoms before she went to the vet? Don’t bother to say it, its because she’s the worse cat in the world and wanted to make me look stupid. Errrr…more stupid than I already am because she is MY cat. At least I know that the vet was right and that she will get better.
+1
If my husband did that I’d be so livid I wouldn’t be able to speak.
It’s one of the reasons why we don’t go away together very often.
He’s normally sane but does have a personality quirk that when he’s angry or frustrated he’ll pick the absolute WORST case “solution”. For example when we were having trouble with one of the dogs having accidents in the house, he proposed in all seriousness to not only rip out the carpet, but also the sub-floor and just keep the house like that. My suggestions for installing hardwood, tile, laminate, etc weren’t good enough, no he just wanted to rip out everything. When he gets in that mood it’s very hard to me to not mock him, and I think I proposed burning the house down to satisfy him in this scenario. He does understand that he’s going too far into crazytown but can’t help himself. It’s some kind of anger management fail, I think.
I was gonna say that’s some quality built-in entertainment right there, with a “quirk” like that, but realized in situations like the hotel, you still personally have to deal with the fallout. (Or a burned-down house.)
Did I bitch in one of these mini threads months ago about my chipping thumbnail? Well, whenever that was, that’s how long it took the damn things to grow out. Solution: prenatal vitamins, which given my “I shall never bear a child” stance on baby-making are an odd addition to my bathroom counter, but whatevs, I swear they help.
I wandered in here to bitch about something else before I got caught up in flatlined’s story, so I’ll just pit my craptastic memory and see myself out.
In general, there are three common reasons why a hotel room wouldn’t be refundable:
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High-demand period or event, during which hotels very commonly set a minimum on number of nights and change the cancellation policy (and often require an up-front deposit at the time of booking.) For things like big festivals, football events in college towns, that sort of thing, it’s pretty common to see booking policies like "two-night minimum, cancellations no less than 72 hours in advance of reservation, non-refundable $XX deposit required. And it’s either right there on the website, or stated verbally by the phone agent.
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Pre-paid reservations via the hotel’s website. In exchange for gambling that you won’t need to change or cancel your plans, you generally can receive a 10-15% room discount by booking on line and paying in advance. Again, the cancellation guidelines and penalties are stated on the website. (Those discounts usually aren’t available via phone bookings.)
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Booking through a third-party seller, like Expedia or Travelocity. The hotel can’t refund, because the hotel didn’t take the booking - essentially, the wholesaler bought the room from the hotel and sold it to the consumer. All changes or refunds must go through the party from whom one bought the room.
Enough about that, though.
The family from hell has been gone since Friday - I know not where, but the Drama Princess hasn’t been at school Monday or today. I had the worst stress headache/upset stomach/end of tension/lay in bed all day weekend ever. Truly didn’t realize how much stress I’d been under until it was gone and I could finally collapse. It was awful, but it’s done. Unfortunately, I also saw on social media a description of a really disturbing incident wherein Drama Mama apparently pulled a gun and threatened suicide, in front of her own daughter. That makes me wish that I knew where they were, but also illustrates why I needed them gone: I couldn’t expose my own family to that level of crazy any longer, and had no legal recourse to keep Drama Mama’s daughter away from her. At any rate, I did the only thing I could think to do, and forwarded the information to the mother of the Princess’ boyfriend - she likely knows where they are, plus she’s a teacher and mandatory reporter. I hated to put her in the middle, but I really didn’t know anyone else who might be able to help.
But it’s pretty damned calm at my house now. I like that a lot. And I’m slowly cleaning up the mess left behind, so that the little girls can have their own bedroom back. And… breathe.
JcWoman, your husband sounds a little like my stepdad - he gets kind of destructively unreasonable when he gets into a snit. Like, if he were putting together a piece of Ikea furniture, he’d refuse to read the directions, fuck it up 7 ways from Sunday, get mad because it didn’t work, and throw half of the pieces as far as they could be flung, then stomp off cussing and go buy something that cost 3x the price. All the while, complaining the the furniture was the problem, rather than operator error. :dubious: (And then really, really get into a snit when, by the time he’s returned home, my mom has gathered up all of the flung bits, disassembled, read the directions, and reassembled. Only to be sweetly arranging her books on the new bookcase when he gets home with the other piece. Because my mother is kind of evil like that.)
This is minor but driving me nuts. MY FEET ITCH LIKE CRAZY. I have been clawing at them all day and I don’t klnow what the hell is the problem. They’re clean, no visibly issues, and JUST.WONT.STOP.
Lacuna, your family deserves some peace. You have done what you can to try to help - above and beyond!
This might sound weird, but maybe take a benedryl and put a little petroleum jelly on them. Will take care of possible allergy itch and dry skin itch. I’d need the benedryl to get to sleep anyway with the itching!
I like your mother sight unseen. 
Revel in having YOUR home back, and feel good about taking care of YOUR family. You know, the people (starting with you) that you have any actual responsibility for. I fail to see the compassion in putting your family through the wringer catering to the Houseguests From Hell.
Congratulations, Lacunae Matata, on excising the growth from your household. Here’s hoping that the less stressful environment yields a “peace dividend” of more effective healing for Tony.
I’ve been putting off responding to messages from a temp agency. They know I’m unavailable this week but want to know if I could go back to a just-finished assignment next week.
My objections:
*I don’t want to.
*At this point I have enough cash on hand to last me until I leave the country in December. A little more wouldn’t hurt, but I don’t need it.
*I really did not like that job. The work sucked, the hours sucked, and while some of the people were really nice two of them were like nails on a goddamned chalkboard.
*Everyone in the office was generally unhappy about some management changes and complained about it a lot.
*I was there for four weeks and the nice coworkers even gave me a little going away gift and we had a sort of lunch party, and going back after just a week would feel awkward in light of that.
*I just…don’t want to.
My problem:
*I don’t want to burn bridges and saying “I just don’t want to” sounds really unprofessional.
I have two separate response saved in my draft folder, trying to figure out the best response, but I’m going to feel bad either way.
I have an obligation already booked.
No one needs to know the obligation is to yourself.
^^^ That’s the one. ^^^
Yeah, shortly after posting that’s basically what I said. “Sorry, but I won’t be available next week, I’ll be sure to give you a call when I am.”
I’m leaving the country at the start of December, and don’t think I’ll be back anytime soon, so I really do want to spend the rest of my time here just enjoying it. On the other hand, there’s the ghost of my Ancestral Protestant Work Ethic* whispering shameful things in my head about that – it feels frivolous and self-indulgent to turn down offers of paying work.
*And I don’t even have any protestant ancestry, dammit! Go away, other people’s ancestors!
Oh c’mon, I’m not evil!
Bro doesn’t do the “stomp away to buy something else” part, but he’s been known to go through a whole slew of not very polite emotions when he’s seen me disassemble or reassemble in a few minutes a piece of furniture identical to one that takes him over one hour. And mine doesn’t have gouges or parts nailed in place…
I’m envious of his Big Electrical Tools but I have him beat on assembly skills.
I believe it’s the #1 scenario. There were actually two large events in town that I knew of: our dog social and a big foot race. Also the room rate was negotiated by our event coordinator to be a little bit cheaper and waived the pet fees. I didn’t fight the office manager at all, because of this and also because I knew hubby was being a little bitch. It wasn’t the hotel’s fault at all.
I think I adore your mom and would like to subscribe to her newsletter. Give her a hug for me next time you see her.
If I knew my wife had called me out in a Pit thread, I’d change my ways.
Seriously, Catch him in a calm moment when he’s thinking like an adult and tell him he’s got to change. Or at least let you make decisions when he’s too far gone to.