Sorry about the extended abscence
...But you know that saying that "everything that can go wrong WILL go wrong?" I'm getting a taste of that now. Two molars are abscessing and they hurt like hell. I've had to go to the hospital for everything under the sun, leaving our already... um... financially challenged... family with so little we were left with no other option than to go to my in-laws and beg for a loan.
Yes, a loan. These people are multimillionaires... and were the tables reversed I'd give them what they needed without a second thought. Not so in this case. When Ben and I were getting married, Lou (MIL) told everyone that Graham, Ben's brother, was "Mah fayrite sun" (yes, she talks like that) to the point that people thought I was marrying Graham. They promised us, and told everyone publicly, that we were going to be sent to Bermuda for a honeymoon. But when the time came to "anty up", we wound up camping out in Ben's uncle's beach house. And no, it wasn't beautiful. Our bed was a free-bee Jack had built at Peterbuilt, consisting of a sharp edged steel frame and four inches of foam rubber for a mattress. Our dirty furniture came from the "junk room" which Lou had previously mused "Ah wunder eef Gudweeyule will tayke eet" (I guess they didn't).
As the birdies say, "cheep cheep cheep." And now our only recourse is to turn to them for financial assistance. You'd better believe we're being made to pay for it!
Please God (or whoever you turn to for Divine guidance) DON'T put us through any more of this crap!
Yes, a loan. These people are multimillionaires... and were the tables reversed I'd give them what they needed without a second thought. Not so in this case. When Ben and I were getting married, Lou (MIL) told everyone that Graham, Ben's brother, was "Mah fayrite sun" (yes, she talks like that) to the point that people thought I was marrying Graham. They promised us, and told everyone publicly, that we were going to be sent to Bermuda for a honeymoon. But when the time came to "anty up", we wound up camping out in Ben's uncle's beach house. And no, it wasn't beautiful. Our bed was a free-bee Jack had built at Peterbuilt, consisting of a sharp edged steel frame and four inches of foam rubber for a mattress. Our dirty furniture came from the "junk room" which Lou had previously mused "Ah wunder eef Gudweeyule will tayke eet" (I guess they didn't).
As the birdies say, "cheep cheep cheep." And now our only recourse is to turn to them for financial assistance. You'd better believe we're being made to pay for it!
Please God (or whoever you turn to for Divine guidance) DON'T put us through any more of this crap!