The other day I got one of the usual texts requesting we talk. Ugh. At least this one wasn’t redundant. Ange asked when I whether I would be home that night and I said I would be but didn’t know exactly when. She said “I need to talk to you” I said, “Okay”.
I ended up doing a million errands and was home home for the equivalent of 20 min, and at that exact moment there happened to be some construction workers on my front porch.
As I ran out the door to leave, Ange says “So, do you just wanna talk tomorrow then?” and I said something to the effect of “Sure, though I’m not home in the evening so it’ll have to be in the morning before I go to work. I’ll get up before you leave.”
So, being the good person I am, I got myself up at 7:15 to go downstairs and talk to her.
She says “So, basically all I wanted to say was that I can’t have these cats here anymore. I’ve had enough, and they are ruining my house.”
I said “I get it. I’m going to move. I’m waiting to hear back about a place, I should know by the end of the weekend. I’m not about to get rid of my cats.”
She said she got it, and asked when I was planning on leaving so that she could find a student and start showing the place to people. I told her my intention was to move as soon as I was back from my trip. I mentioned that my plan was to take the cats to my dad’s while I was gone so that they weren’t there while I was away. She looked relieved. I made a crack about how I told the guy at the apartment I looked at that I had to move to save our friendship.
“It’s not that you’re a hard person to live with. I just can’t deal with these cats.”
No, I’m NOT a hard person to live with. You are.