On Wednesday, after I helped Mother with getting insurance information, she told me that she had arranged for an inspector to look at the roof, siding and gutters ... the next day. She asked me to unlock the side door (but put the recycling bin behind it -- you know, to keep it "shut") so he and the second roofer we spoke to could inspect everything. Mother knew I was working then, but thought nothing of having some fucking stranger climb on top of and meander behind our property without me or her or Father being there to see him. And she said all this shit would happen the next afternoon.
This pissed me off to no end. But there are two dimensions to my pissed-off-ness. There is, of course, the idea that I, or she, would let anyone look at our house, our home, our sacred castle, without us there. What I have just realized, however, that I am a bit more upset that, once again, she has sprung one of her hare-brained ideas on me without telling me, without giving me any time to process it, and without having my say as to whether it's a good idea or not -- again. She once again just went through on her fucking bullshit flights of fancy, and she just goddamn assumed I'd be OK with it. I don't care that she felt like I didn't have to do anything more than unlock a door. If someone sees that door open, I have to deal with that fucker breaking into the house, not her. But she didn't give a flying shit.
Having to catch this hot potato of news, I (once again) wasn't as clever on my feet as I should have been. I told her that this was a bad idea, having some guy crawl around the home without me there, and once again, fuckin' A, My Fucking Mother retreated back into defensive mode. "What do you want to do then?" she asked, without realizing for one goddamn second that this was all my parents' idea. "I am the one who has to come up with ideas!" Ideas for what? Who said that the roof and siding and gutters needed repairing?? She acts like something hard and unavoidable has fallen into her lap when she's the one telling me what the fuck's going on ... and telling me poorly, by the way.
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Going to bed (well, after going to this volunteer event and then getting an HJ by ******a -- man, did I need that!), I thought I had no choice but to do what she says. I swore that I had told Mother that I had Friday off, and that was the perfect time for them to come over. I didn't think when she dropped this fuckin' bomb on me to remind her in case she forgot -- thank Buddha for ******a; she thought saying that to her would be a way to draw boundaries that obviously aren't there right now -- but I figured it was too late. But I live in this house, and right now, I am the only person who lives in this house. It does not sit right with me to unlock a door that is always secured when I leave so some stranger can come look, even if everyone else says it's OK, because it's not OK with me. It doesn't matter that I live in a good neighborhood; I should not and will not leave my house unlocked.
So I woke up and decided that I would ask/tell my boss I have to take an extended lunch break to go home and oversee whatever it is this inspector wants to look at. I didn't want to do that to my boss, but My Fucking Mother left me with no goddamn choice. And even though I'm sure My Fucking Mother told the roofer that the side door was not going to be locked, I texted her in the morning that it would be locked and that I would come home to unlock it. Once again, I have to make room for My Fucking Mother's whims and demands, but now I had some control in how it was going to happen.
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Or so I thought. I went home earlier than planned in case the inspector got there early. And by God, he was there earlier than me. I went home to see some dude on top of the house with a ladder. I took umbrage at that, so I parked my car, looked up at him and said, "Who are you?" He was the inspector, of course, and he was there to look at the roof. And I think I said some other things that conveyed how upset I was that he was on my house when I wasn't there.
I saw the roofer talking on the phone next to her car parked a ways from in front of my house. She was talking a mile a minute about our homeowner's policy, but I didn't care about that. I cared about why in the hell this guy was lording over my house when I told her that I was coming over to oversee everything. She told me that she just got there and that the inspector was parked. She said that the inspector thought that he could start his inspection as soon as she (the roofer) got there because he was told that the only person supervising the property would be her. So, once she got on site, he thought he was good to go, locked side door be damned. Maybe she should have told him to wait until I got there, but My Fucking Mother apparently got into the middle of this arrangement too and ... ah, fuck it, I don't know what else was said. There was no need for me to continue to be angry at some guy who didn't seem to deserve it. He even said that he thought he got the go-ahead as soon as the roofer drove up. Also, he says that he climbs on roofs all the time without the homeowner or anyone living the house there. Is that true? That sounds reckless to me. Whatever; I opened the side door once I got there, and I saw him, well, inspect and leave.
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So he's supposed to whip up a report that he's going to give to the insurance company since we (well, Mother) made a claim. The insurance company will give it to us and, if we want to go ahead with repairs, we can send that report to the roofer. However, the roofer is now pooh-poohing our chances of justifying any repairs or replacement. She understands our policy better than we do, and it looks like our deductible is too high and that we don't have enough of the components (?) that would induce the insurance company to pay for most of any repairs. My Fucking Mother asked me later Thursday evening what to do. Once again, she's throwing on my lap some lame-brained fantasy she cooked up in her own goddamn head. I don't know. Maybe as the person who technically owns the home, maybe I should know. But right now, I'm still too pissed at my narcissist mommy to set my anger aside and make the most out of her scheme.
But back to my original point. No harm, no foul on leaving work for more than half an hour; there was such light work that, even if I had a normal half-hour break, there wouldn't have been enough work for me to stay eight hours. Still, all of this would have gone much smoother if the inspector came Friday. I was home and the person winterizing the sprinkler system would've been there, too. Kill two birds with one stone, and I wouldn't have had to impose upon my boss to see through some bullshit idea by My Fucking Mother. God, she sucks.
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