Vent Post: No Good Deed...
Our house is almost back to normal.
Remember how we stayed with B's parents last weekend? We initially only intended to stay for a night. But at 2 a.m., our friend Kris called, needing a place to stay because he was sleeping outside. Because our couch is harder than stone, I suggested to B that we take a few extra nights with his folks so that Kris could sleep in our bed while we crashed elsewhere. Of course, the only requirement was that he take care of the dogs, though we told him we'd be home on Monday and he needed to find another arrangement by then.
A day before we were supposed to come home, Em and I decided to randomly stop by the place to check on Savannah, Little Bit, and her pug, who was also crashing there for the weekend. We'd been out shopping and the shopping plaza is close to our place, so it made sense. Interestingly, as we pulled up, I said to her, "You know, we should have called to let him know we were stopping by, just to respect his privacy. He could be undressed in there or something." Those words are kind of ironic, now that I think about them.
From the moment we arrived, we knew something was wrong. The front door was unlocked, and as we walked into the house, Em's pug was running loose. This was sign number two, because we had told Kris that the pug was not to be let loose unsupervised. At that point, I began to get really concerned that something had happened because Kris wasn't hollering back as we yelled his name. The lights were on, but it was clear that Kris wasn't there.
The damage left by Kris certainly was, though. The kitchen was trashed--several pots were on the stove, with water and food in them. It was clear that he had wasted a lot of food, and hadn't bothered to clean up after himself. The sink was full of dishes. And looking down, I realized in horror that there were what looked like mud smears on the floor.
Looking over at the living room, I quickly realized the smears weren't mud. There were literally over a dozen piles of dog poo in the living room, plus empty dog bowls, staring at me. I also noticed a handful of Sephie's toys were in the living room, toys that I had distinctly remember placing in her room. But the dog poo didn't get any better in the rest of the house. It was in every room, on clothes and ground into the carpet. The entire house smelled like a giant dog run.
I was so upset I had Em call B, who got in touch with Kris. According to Kris, he had only been gone for a few hours, but that premise was far more troubling. There was simply no way the dogs could have generated that many piles of feces in such a short amount of time, particularly since Savannah and Little Bit are housebroken. So that means at some point, Kris just opted not to clean them up, but rather avoid the piles like landmines.
To say that I felt violated wouldn't really go far enough to addressing how betrayed I really felt. Yeah, I understand that it sounds like, to some extent, that the guy was doing us a favor by watching the dogs, except that we had vacated our house solely so that he would have a place to stay, with the one requirement be that he mind the dogs. It sounds like less of a favor when you realize that if we hadn't left our house, he would have been sleeping on the street instead of our warm, clean bed.
B told him he could stay through the night, but he wanted him gone in the morning. I refused to deal with him, though he called me, sent me an apologetic text message and message through Facebook. I told B after surveying the damage and realizing Em's dog had eaten a doll I'd been saving for Sephie, I just wasn't in the mood to hear his excuses. I was angry that it took Em and I over an hour to clean up the mess that came from the guy that was supposed to be watching our house, and I question his sincerity and that expressed remorse because despite returning to a house that was obviously much, much cleaner than the one he had left, Kris made no effort to maintain that level of cleanliness prior to vacating the premise.
As in, when B and I returned, the previously empty sink was full of dishes. A check of the carpet made me realize he hadn't tried to work on the stains at all. A few pieces of food had dried on the counter. It wasn't as bad as what Em and I had originally encountered the day before, but it still wasn't neat, or ideal. When B realized that, he completely came unglued, as did I. We de-friended Kris on Facebook, but not before telling him we will never again offer him the opportunity. I was especially pissed because, if he was truly so repentant, why didn't he try to work on the messes left behind? Em and I cleaned the carpet as best we could, but it was still obvious that stains were present. We have a carpet shampooer, and if Kris had attempted to use it, it might have prevented the messes from staining. We probably could have gotten beyond it, but he didn't even try.
A few days later, some friends of ours encountered Kris at the junior college, and my name came up. Kris said that I probably wouldn't be open to talking with him right now, due to a "misunderstanding." If I wasn't already adamant about keeping Kris out of our lives, that would have sealed the deal for me. My mind boggled when I heard that phrase--how on Earth would anyone reach the conclusion that what he did was a "misunderstanding"?
Especially since B and I were damn clear about the expectations of taking care of the dogs. To me, the kitchen and the food isn't the real issue (though I am curious how, in the span of four days, anybody could think it's a good idea to wolf down 24 pudding cups) but the care of the dogs. The dog feces everywhere and Atticus being left out of his cage, unsupervised, as well as leaving our front door unlocked when we had given him a key and the garage door opener, that's not a misunderstanding; that's somebody shoving their middle finger in our faces when we've tried to do them a favor.
I do feel bad for Kris. I feel bad about anybody who has no means or resources or skills to fall back on when they encounter hard times. I don't know Kris's full story, but I do know that ours isn't the first home he's been asked to leave, and if this is a preview of how he acts everywhere else, I can understand why. Surveying the destruction, I couldn't help but wonder about the kids--what would have happened if someone, concerned by the bark of the dogs or the stench (which has JUST started to go away) had called the police or animal control, and they saw how much dog shit there was? They might have felt compelled to get CPS involved.
The idea isn't so paranoid. After all, Lizzy had her kids (rightfully) taken away over the summer, and my in-laws have injected themselves all over that court battle. Even right now, they're still forcing Brian and B to draft motions fighting for Lizzy to have custody of her kids, despite everyone knowing that Lizzy is crazy and not capable of raising them. Because of how enmeshed the family is, and the fact it will be B's name on the paperwork disputing the CPS findings, I wouldn't be surprised if we have to deal with CPS in regards to H and Sephie in the coming years. So, forgive me if I don't want to give them fodder.
It's just been a rough couple of days, particularly as P has relocated with her idiot boyfriend 15 minutes away. And P's parents are also divorcing. Apparently, the reason P moved out is that her mother is moving into the house she's been occupying (you may remember P's parents have three houses right next door to each other, and P has lived there rent-free since before H was born) in an effort to make the separation happen. So poor H has tons of change he's still adjusting to--coming to our house three days a week, relocating to a new home with P's relatively new boyfriend, his grandparents splitting up, and Sephie. He loves the baby, obviously, but now that she's getting bigger and talking, he's having a difficult time not getting jealous of all the attention she's commanding.
It's taken me over a week to write this entry due to everything going on, and being so sick for the last eight days I could barely check my e-mail, let alone do a proper journal entry. This virus is nasty stuff, but at least the kids managed to avoid the worst of it. Yay, breastfeeding. Still, the theme for this post ought to be no good deed goes unpunished.
Remember how we stayed with B's parents last weekend? We initially only intended to stay for a night. But at 2 a.m., our friend Kris called, needing a place to stay because he was sleeping outside. Because our couch is harder than stone, I suggested to B that we take a few extra nights with his folks so that Kris could sleep in our bed while we crashed elsewhere. Of course, the only requirement was that he take care of the dogs, though we told him we'd be home on Monday and he needed to find another arrangement by then.
A day before we were supposed to come home, Em and I decided to randomly stop by the place to check on Savannah, Little Bit, and her pug, who was also crashing there for the weekend. We'd been out shopping and the shopping plaza is close to our place, so it made sense. Interestingly, as we pulled up, I said to her, "You know, we should have called to let him know we were stopping by, just to respect his privacy. He could be undressed in there or something." Those words are kind of ironic, now that I think about them.
From the moment we arrived, we knew something was wrong. The front door was unlocked, and as we walked into the house, Em's pug was running loose. This was sign number two, because we had told Kris that the pug was not to be let loose unsupervised. At that point, I began to get really concerned that something had happened because Kris wasn't hollering back as we yelled his name. The lights were on, but it was clear that Kris wasn't there.
The damage left by Kris certainly was, though. The kitchen was trashed--several pots were on the stove, with water and food in them. It was clear that he had wasted a lot of food, and hadn't bothered to clean up after himself. The sink was full of dishes. And looking down, I realized in horror that there were what looked like mud smears on the floor.
Looking over at the living room, I quickly realized the smears weren't mud. There were literally over a dozen piles of dog poo in the living room, plus empty dog bowls, staring at me. I also noticed a handful of Sephie's toys were in the living room, toys that I had distinctly remember placing in her room. But the dog poo didn't get any better in the rest of the house. It was in every room, on clothes and ground into the carpet. The entire house smelled like a giant dog run.
I was so upset I had Em call B, who got in touch with Kris. According to Kris, he had only been gone for a few hours, but that premise was far more troubling. There was simply no way the dogs could have generated that many piles of feces in such a short amount of time, particularly since Savannah and Little Bit are housebroken. So that means at some point, Kris just opted not to clean them up, but rather avoid the piles like landmines.
To say that I felt violated wouldn't really go far enough to addressing how betrayed I really felt. Yeah, I understand that it sounds like, to some extent, that the guy was doing us a favor by watching the dogs, except that we had vacated our house solely so that he would have a place to stay, with the one requirement be that he mind the dogs. It sounds like less of a favor when you realize that if we hadn't left our house, he would have been sleeping on the street instead of our warm, clean bed.
B told him he could stay through the night, but he wanted him gone in the morning. I refused to deal with him, though he called me, sent me an apologetic text message and message through Facebook. I told B after surveying the damage and realizing Em's dog had eaten a doll I'd been saving for Sephie, I just wasn't in the mood to hear his excuses. I was angry that it took Em and I over an hour to clean up the mess that came from the guy that was supposed to be watching our house, and I question his sincerity and that expressed remorse because despite returning to a house that was obviously much, much cleaner than the one he had left, Kris made no effort to maintain that level of cleanliness prior to vacating the premise.
As in, when B and I returned, the previously empty sink was full of dishes. A check of the carpet made me realize he hadn't tried to work on the stains at all. A few pieces of food had dried on the counter. It wasn't as bad as what Em and I had originally encountered the day before, but it still wasn't neat, or ideal. When B realized that, he completely came unglued, as did I. We de-friended Kris on Facebook, but not before telling him we will never again offer him the opportunity. I was especially pissed because, if he was truly so repentant, why didn't he try to work on the messes left behind? Em and I cleaned the carpet as best we could, but it was still obvious that stains were present. We have a carpet shampooer, and if Kris had attempted to use it, it might have prevented the messes from staining. We probably could have gotten beyond it, but he didn't even try.
A few days later, some friends of ours encountered Kris at the junior college, and my name came up. Kris said that I probably wouldn't be open to talking with him right now, due to a "misunderstanding." If I wasn't already adamant about keeping Kris out of our lives, that would have sealed the deal for me. My mind boggled when I heard that phrase--how on Earth would anyone reach the conclusion that what he did was a "misunderstanding"?
Especially since B and I were damn clear about the expectations of taking care of the dogs. To me, the kitchen and the food isn't the real issue (though I am curious how, in the span of four days, anybody could think it's a good idea to wolf down 24 pudding cups) but the care of the dogs. The dog feces everywhere and Atticus being left out of his cage, unsupervised, as well as leaving our front door unlocked when we had given him a key and the garage door opener, that's not a misunderstanding; that's somebody shoving their middle finger in our faces when we've tried to do them a favor.
I do feel bad for Kris. I feel bad about anybody who has no means or resources or skills to fall back on when they encounter hard times. I don't know Kris's full story, but I do know that ours isn't the first home he's been asked to leave, and if this is a preview of how he acts everywhere else, I can understand why. Surveying the destruction, I couldn't help but wonder about the kids--what would have happened if someone, concerned by the bark of the dogs or the stench (which has JUST started to go away) had called the police or animal control, and they saw how much dog shit there was? They might have felt compelled to get CPS involved.
The idea isn't so paranoid. After all, Lizzy had her kids (rightfully) taken away over the summer, and my in-laws have injected themselves all over that court battle. Even right now, they're still forcing Brian and B to draft motions fighting for Lizzy to have custody of her kids, despite everyone knowing that Lizzy is crazy and not capable of raising them. Because of how enmeshed the family is, and the fact it will be B's name on the paperwork disputing the CPS findings, I wouldn't be surprised if we have to deal with CPS in regards to H and Sephie in the coming years. So, forgive me if I don't want to give them fodder.
It's just been a rough couple of days, particularly as P has relocated with her idiot boyfriend 15 minutes away. And P's parents are also divorcing. Apparently, the reason P moved out is that her mother is moving into the house she's been occupying (you may remember P's parents have three houses right next door to each other, and P has lived there rent-free since before H was born) in an effort to make the separation happen. So poor H has tons of change he's still adjusting to--coming to our house three days a week, relocating to a new home with P's relatively new boyfriend, his grandparents splitting up, and Sephie. He loves the baby, obviously, but now that she's getting bigger and talking, he's having a difficult time not getting jealous of all the attention she's commanding.
It's taken me over a week to write this entry due to everything going on, and being so sick for the last eight days I could barely check my e-mail, let alone do a proper journal entry. This virus is nasty stuff, but at least the kids managed to avoid the worst of it. Yay, breastfeeding. Still, the theme for this post ought to be no good deed goes unpunished.