![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Parental Units recently sold their two-story house and bought a smaller one-story that's actually further away from us (thank god) than their old one. For no other reason than that I know how the Maternal Unit's mind works, I asked hubby and a couple of his friends to help them pack and move some of their stuff to the new place. It amused me greatly when OtherSteve responded with "Why would I help your parents move? You don't even like your mom!" Which is true, of course, but there are two other points to consider:
1. If I hadn't made hubby volunteer I never would have heard the end of it. I thought I made my own preferences pretty clear by staying the hell away from them for the bulk of the move.
2. The Maternal Unit is a PITA, but the Paternal Unit occasionally has his moments. He's also overweight, a smoker, and not in the best of shape, so I didn't want him keeling over in the Houston heat from trying to do the packing/moving himself. The Parental Units did hire a moving company for the heavy stuff, but they needed help with fragile/smaller items that they didn't trust the movers to take.
After I pointed that out to OtherSteve, he agreed, saying "Yeah, I don't like your mom either, but your dad's a sweetheart. For him, I don't mind helping at all".
Well, when the Parental Units made their last runthrough of the old place before they had to be permanently out, hubby discovered the movers had left behind their safe. Not one of those dinky hold-money-for-garage-sale "safes" either, this thing had to weigh at least a hundred pounds. So we had to go over to the old place today to get the safe.
I knew the Maternal Unit had been under the completely false impression that I was willingly speaking to her again, so this afternoon at their old place I walked up to her to make my position crystal clear. To wit, I'd only been speaking to her for the reasons I outlined above, and now that they were all moved in that was gonna stop.
Predictably, she began to blubber "What? What? Whyyyyyyyyy?!" so I made the "talk to the hand" gesture and walked away.
Next thing I know, the Paternal Unit is calling hubby on his cell. Hubby hands the phone over to me, at which point the Paternal Unit proceeds to lecture me about how the Maternal Unit "is crying so hard she can't talk to tell me what's wrong (yeah, right)", and that "unless I apologize to her I can just go to hell!" I smiled brightly, said "Thank you!" and hung up.
Friday I had an appt with my gyno, who's also the Maternal Unit's doctor. She asked me if the Maternal Unit was doing okay, and when I responded with "I guess..." she seemed surprised. I explained we were no longer on speaking terms. She said "But...but she's your *mother*!" I looked her in the eye and said "That's not my fault!"
It cracks me up to think that the Maternal Unit still thinks she can get away with claiming never to have made the "You're their daughter now" comment. And it further amuses me to think that, in the rare instances since that she's actually acknowledged having said it, she thinks the reason I'm no longer speaking to her is that "my feelings are hurt". Nothing could be further from the truth. As I've said before, when she said that to me it was like giving me a Get Out Of Jail Free card.
We'll see how the Parental Unit feels in a month or so. Hubby's already agreed to go to the Sting concert with me, so even if the Parental Unit actually manages to recall telling me to go to hell, it won't matter because I'll still have someone willing to use the ticket meant for him.
1. If I hadn't made hubby volunteer I never would have heard the end of it. I thought I made my own preferences pretty clear by staying the hell away from them for the bulk of the move.
2. The Maternal Unit is a PITA, but the Paternal Unit occasionally has his moments. He's also overweight, a smoker, and not in the best of shape, so I didn't want him keeling over in the Houston heat from trying to do the packing/moving himself. The Parental Units did hire a moving company for the heavy stuff, but they needed help with fragile/smaller items that they didn't trust the movers to take.
After I pointed that out to OtherSteve, he agreed, saying "Yeah, I don't like your mom either, but your dad's a sweetheart. For him, I don't mind helping at all".
Well, when the Parental Units made their last runthrough of the old place before they had to be permanently out, hubby discovered the movers had left behind their safe. Not one of those dinky hold-money-for-garage-sale "safes" either, this thing had to weigh at least a hundred pounds. So we had to go over to the old place today to get the safe.
I knew the Maternal Unit had been under the completely false impression that I was willingly speaking to her again, so this afternoon at their old place I walked up to her to make my position crystal clear. To wit, I'd only been speaking to her for the reasons I outlined above, and now that they were all moved in that was gonna stop.
Predictably, she began to blubber "What? What? Whyyyyyyyyy?!" so I made the "talk to the hand" gesture and walked away.
Next thing I know, the Paternal Unit is calling hubby on his cell. Hubby hands the phone over to me, at which point the Paternal Unit proceeds to lecture me about how the Maternal Unit "is crying so hard she can't talk to tell me what's wrong (yeah, right)", and that "unless I apologize to her I can just go to hell!" I smiled brightly, said "Thank you!" and hung up.
Friday I had an appt with my gyno, who's also the Maternal Unit's doctor. She asked me if the Maternal Unit was doing okay, and when I responded with "I guess..." she seemed surprised. I explained we were no longer on speaking terms. She said "But...but she's your *mother*!" I looked her in the eye and said "That's not my fault!"
It cracks me up to think that the Maternal Unit still thinks she can get away with claiming never to have made the "You're their daughter now" comment. And it further amuses me to think that, in the rare instances since that she's actually acknowledged having said it, she thinks the reason I'm no longer speaking to her is that "my feelings are hurt". Nothing could be further from the truth. As I've said before, when she said that to me it was like giving me a Get Out Of Jail Free card.
We'll see how the Parental Unit feels in a month or so. Hubby's already agreed to go to the Sting concert with me, so even if the Parental Unit actually manages to recall telling me to go to hell, it won't matter because I'll still have someone willing to use the ticket meant for him.
