So it gets better. Dad, who will now be referred to as John, called Mom this morning at work and she told him he's not welcome near this house anymore. The only thing he was allowed to do was to get his shit out of the garage. Fine, dandy. I went Christmas shopping, came home around 3, and his truck was in the driveway so I pulled off and went to a friend's house. Fuck that shit, I wasn't dealing with him.
I come back three hours later, and he's still here. I creep into the house and look into the garage (which I can see into now because it's dark outside and light in there) and he's not only -there-, he's drinking, refurbishing a table, and has a nice little fire going in the woodburning stove. Can you freaking believe it? What a lunatic. So I called the cops. Again.
They came more quickly this time and I explained the situation to them. I opened the garage door from the house and they told him he should leave, then he started rattling off again about what a retard I was and how I screw things up, and that he WORKS here in the SHOP (IT'S A GARAGE, NOT A SHOP) every night and has been for a year (bullshit), and that he refurnishes antiques (he and my mom both do it as a hobby, it's not like it gives him rights to be here). Soo the cops ask me to call my mom; I do, she tells them everything I told them, and they insist that he leaves, except that he's been drinking so he can't drive himself. He calls a friend, tells him I'm "screwing things up again" and this friend takes another 15 minutes to get here. Meanwhile the cops keep him occupied, but not enough to keep him from yelling out that I'm a little retard and a nutbag, and my favorite: "Nicole, the next time you call the cops, you remember all the weed you have in your house". HE YELLED THIS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. I told the officers they were more than welcome to check this out for pot, but they started asking him random questions like who smokes it and if we really have it. I don't know if that was them trying to actually find out if we HAVE weed or if it was just to keep him talking. What an asshole.
Finally his 'friend' came to pick him up (which means his truck and the shit in the garage is still here) and he left, but not before screaming "Good night Nicole, you fucking retard" at me through the front door.
Needless to say, I'm a little scared to be in the house right now, although a friend of mine said he would come hang out for a while and my brother said he would try to stop by. I don't know what "try to stop by" means, but whatever.
I'm exhausted. Even the dog is exhausted.
me
I come back three hours later, and he's still here. I creep into the house and look into the garage (which I can see into now because it's dark outside and light in there) and he's not only -there-, he's drinking, refurbishing a table, and has a nice little fire going in the woodburning stove. Can you freaking believe it? What a lunatic. So I called the cops. Again.
They came more quickly this time and I explained the situation to them. I opened the garage door from the house and they told him he should leave, then he started rattling off again about what a retard I was and how I screw things up, and that he WORKS here in the SHOP (IT'S A GARAGE, NOT A SHOP) every night and has been for a year (bullshit), and that he refurnishes antiques (he and my mom both do it as a hobby, it's not like it gives him rights to be here). Soo the cops ask me to call my mom; I do, she tells them everything I told them, and they insist that he leaves, except that he's been drinking so he can't drive himself. He calls a friend, tells him I'm "screwing things up again" and this friend takes another 15 minutes to get here. Meanwhile the cops keep him occupied, but not enough to keep him from yelling out that I'm a little retard and a nutbag, and my favorite: "Nicole, the next time you call the cops, you remember all the weed you have in your house". HE YELLED THIS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. I told the officers they were more than welcome to check this out for pot, but they started asking him random questions like who smokes it and if we really have it. I don't know if that was them trying to actually find out if we HAVE weed or if it was just to keep him talking. What an asshole.
Finally his 'friend' came to pick him up (which means his truck and the shit in the garage is still here) and he left, but not before screaming "Good night Nicole, you fucking retard" at me through the front door.
Needless to say, I'm a little scared to be in the house right now, although a friend of mine said he would come hang out for a while and my brother said he would try to stop by. I don't know what "try to stop by" means, but whatever.
I'm exhausted. Even the dog is exhausted.
me