Would Someone Give Shorty a Chill Pill, Please?
Shorty is driving me crazy. He’s sooooo excited about my new place and, while I appreciate that, he’s bugging me every other day about coming over and checking on the status and anything else he can think of to talk to me about.
I knew he was going to act this way, too.
Way back when I put in the offer, I made a mistake in telling him about it that same day. I’d given him a rough idea of the location and the next morning he called me to get the specifics so he and my Mom and their pansy dog could go check it out. After giving him explicit directions (“Do not knock on the door. Do not peak over the fence. Do not talk to anyone. Try not to get out of the car at all”), I reluctantly gave him directions. The guy hadn’t accepted my offer yet and I didn’t want to spook him with my crazy parental units barging in on him. I have no idea if they followed any of my commands, but since the guy accepted my offer eventually, they apparently didn’t do any damage.
After the offer was accepted, Shorty’s new thing was to call me every few days for an update on the process. OK, there weren’t a lot of updates, especially after the closing date was set. So, I pretty much said, over and over, “Nothing’s changed since the last time you called me. Can I go back to work now?”
When my closing day came, I knew I had to let them in to see the place ASAP. I called them and told them where the key was hidden and by the time I got over there, they (and their pansy dog) had gone all through the place.
I thought that would keep him satisfied for a while but it wasn’t enough. They were over the next night and I had him run to Wally World for me the Saturday before I moved but I’ve held them off since then.
He offered to help me unpack on Thanksgiving morning. He wanted to come over the weekend. He wanted to come over on Tuesday and I told him Grandpa was working on the shelves. He wanted to come over last night and I told him no. I’m starting to feel like a grouch but at the same time I feel tempted to pull a Sugar Daddy and say, “If you ask me one more time, you’re never coming over.”
The place is just not company ready yet. There are still places where the paint needs to be touched up, there are empty and full boxes all over and I need to scrape paint spots off the tile and sweep and mop. He doesn’t care. He still wants to come over. I’m not sure why, since he’s already seen the place several times.
I’m probably going to give in soon. They keep buying me presents ant that’s softening me up. They bought me a nice set of knives, a really cool microwave, an unattractive patio set (which only cost $60 so I won’t feel guilty when I replace it but it will work for a while) and a set of logs for the fireplace.
I knew he was going to act this way, too.
Way back when I put in the offer, I made a mistake in telling him about it that same day. I’d given him a rough idea of the location and the next morning he called me to get the specifics so he and my Mom and their pansy dog could go check it out. After giving him explicit directions (“Do not knock on the door. Do not peak over the fence. Do not talk to anyone. Try not to get out of the car at all”), I reluctantly gave him directions. The guy hadn’t accepted my offer yet and I didn’t want to spook him with my crazy parental units barging in on him. I have no idea if they followed any of my commands, but since the guy accepted my offer eventually, they apparently didn’t do any damage.
After the offer was accepted, Shorty’s new thing was to call me every few days for an update on the process. OK, there weren’t a lot of updates, especially after the closing date was set. So, I pretty much said, over and over, “Nothing’s changed since the last time you called me. Can I go back to work now?”
When my closing day came, I knew I had to let them in to see the place ASAP. I called them and told them where the key was hidden and by the time I got over there, they (and their pansy dog) had gone all through the place.
I thought that would keep him satisfied for a while but it wasn’t enough. They were over the next night and I had him run to Wally World for me the Saturday before I moved but I’ve held them off since then.
He offered to help me unpack on Thanksgiving morning. He wanted to come over the weekend. He wanted to come over on Tuesday and I told him Grandpa was working on the shelves. He wanted to come over last night and I told him no. I’m starting to feel like a grouch but at the same time I feel tempted to pull a Sugar Daddy and say, “If you ask me one more time, you’re never coming over.”
The place is just not company ready yet. There are still places where the paint needs to be touched up, there are empty and full boxes all over and I need to scrape paint spots off the tile and sweep and mop. He doesn’t care. He still wants to come over. I’m not sure why, since he’s already seen the place several times.
I’m probably going to give in soon. They keep buying me presents ant that’s softening me up. They bought me a nice set of knives, a really cool microwave, an unattractive patio set (which only cost $60 so I won’t feel guilty when I replace it but it will work for a while) and a set of logs for the fireplace.
