Things are starting to implode. Or maybe they're not. I have lost all sense of judgement on most things lately.
The brothers' dependence on me is as clear to them as it is to me. And they have evidently been discussing this. Today, when they came home for food, OBrother asked, 'Sophia, would you like to open an office and organise jobs for tradespeople?', such as themselves, I presume.
'Well,' I said, trying not to get irritable, 'It is my ambition to work using my skills, in the same way that you want to work using yours. I can't say "never" but no, that is not want I want to do.'
I am, in fact, doing quite a lot to keep my CV looking good and my brain alive. I am Chair of Directors at our local community centre, which comes with an unpaid and sizeable workload. I am a governor at Babe2's nursery and at Babe's school. I am studying for a diploma that I have barely started. I have writing aspirations I am trying to fulfil by entering a competition most months. Hitherto, I have had only the time after the boys go to bed each evening to meet these requirements, which is also when I have domestic stuff to keep on top of. I have been waiting for Gus to start pre-school so that I'd have a bit of time to focus on what's important to me. Ironically, that was last week. I won't ask if it's fair that the brothers arrived at the self-same time, suddenly upping my workload by multiples of ten, because that wouldn't be helpful. But I am feeling pretty darn stressed by the amount I have and want to do, irrespective of this new complication in my life. And in case you're interested, I have not been feeling well for some time and await the results of more blood tests. Diddums!
Mr Khan is, we now think, a total nutter/lying bastard. Or is he? The brothers went over to the house on Saturday to find out whether he'd sourced two single beds as promised and he insisted on walking back here with them, so I found him standing outside my house when I got back from doing my weekly shop. He immediately started wringing his hands and expressing profuse shame at not having got the beds. He claimed he had been mugged at gun and knife-point the night before, on his way back from the children's hospital where his youngest child is being treated having fallen down the stairs. If that's a lie, incidentally, I hope the lie is that the child has been injured and not how the child has been injured. He proceeded to ask if I would give him money to get the beds, as all his cash and cards had been taken. I said that I have no money whatsoever, having produced the £300 required for the brothers' deposit in good faith. When he want on to say he had no money to get food for his wife or children at the hospital I brought the conversation to a swift close. What the hell have I got us into?
Needless to say he did not ask if we would be meeting him on the Sunday to discuss building an extension to his friend's house, as previously suggested.
As a consequence of all this, the conversation and activity of the last few days has revolved around single beds. A dear friend with a car drove me around the city where we live this morning, looking for the cheapest new and second-hand options. I don't know how I let this happen as I should have insisted they put up with what they've got, a week ago. Time is of the essence and finding work the priority! Somehow I keep getting sucked into their wooly thinking. The Brothers have revealed that they only have enough money for one more month's rent and I now suspect they do not have anything put on one side to buy tickets to get back home. Any early bets on how I'll spend my Christmas money?
When I got home I went and found two lie-flatable sleeping bags from the roof to serve as mattress protectors, a pile of bedding and towels and told them to make do with the double bed they've got, and the additional single that was on the floor. Enough is enough: they've got something at least to sleep on, and I need my living room back. They agreed and took the stuff over. Leaving behind, I noticed, their wash stuff. I wonder if OBrother's PJs are still tucked behind the cushion on the sofa?
I do really hope they will sleep in the room tonight. Although it's them being here all day and all evening that is more of a problem if I'm honest (I'm back in the dining room tonight while they watch football.) When will they start washing there? Or cooking and eating? Shopping for an additional two men is really straining our already unrealistic budget and they are eating everything in sight. Hungrily, you understand, not greedily. And with some embarrassment, which makes me feel really, really mean wanting them out.
But I want my space back, and to clean and air. And to relax for half an hour before I go to bed. And to have a conversation with my husband. I think. More about that some other time. Goodnight!
No comments:
Post a Comment