So, my husband got a call from his mother about a week and a half ago. His father walked out on his mother and moved in with his girlfriend.
Seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, right?
The next night my husband is relating a story that his mother told him. Let me set the scene:
I had made roast for dinner that night. As my husband is telling me this, he is ladeling some more of the dinner that I made into his bowl.
He says, “So, Dad came back to the house today to get some of his stuff. Mom told him he needed to move the house into her name and that she would leave it to either me or Ashley if she died. (Here he ladels more roast into his bowl) Dad said that they should wait on that, because if it doesn’t work out with his new girlfriend he’ll move back in. (He ladels out some more) Dad said he would move into the attic and live there if that’s what mom wanted. (He ladels out some more roast into his bowl) I said, ‘What does he expect you to do, Mom? Cook dinner for him every night?'”
Does anyone else see the irony here? Cause it flat slapped me across the face.
Of course, he didn’t see the irony or gave no indication that he did.
Yes, this is my life right now. It’s gotta get better when I scuttle the baggage, right?