self-control.

i went out to breakfast this morning.
well, i ate breakfast there yesterday, too, with my dad, but i woke up thinking about it again this morning, so i went there.
mid-way through the meal, my phone rang.
my phone said mom was calling from home.
as always, seeing 'mom,' there was a process of thoughts and emotions that took about one second. mom! mom's dead. not mom. allen. oh no. allen.
so, because allen gets kind of crazy when i don't answer my phone, i took my phone outside of the restaurant to answer it.
he sounded drunk/high. slurred speech.
he told me he wanted to talk to me about a couple of things.
he told me a long, rambling story about him and mom having a conversation about her car. (if you'll recall, i might have mentioned that allen asked me if he was going to get a portion of the proceeds from the sale of mom's car. i politely informed him that that wasn't going to happen.) anyway, he told me this story about mom offering *him* the car, and him declining, because it would hold his bass. he said she had said maybe she'd give it to tab, since i didn't want it. allen said that they had left it unfinished, the conversation.
so, his end decision was this: we should sell the car and split the money 4 ways - him, me, tab and lucy.
as he told me the story i got more and more impatient and annoyed. he does this thing, where he grabs hold of some idea and he worries it and worries it and he won't let it go. he'll bug me about the same thing repeatedly, because it's on his mind, despite me having told him the same thing over and over. so, him bringing the car up, and a reason why HE should get some of the proceeds from its sale, was not unexpected, but certainly unwelcome.
in what can only be described as an epic, herculean feat of self-control, i told him that i would think about it and talk to him about it at another time.
i am just so surprised that he is constantly looking for more ways that he can benefit from my mom's death.
my allowing him to live RENT FREE in my mom's house for the next year, i am basically giving him $30K. that's how much it will cost me to keep the house for a year. and yet he wants more. he wants a portion of the sale of mom's car, so he can fix up his fucking VW van, even though mom basically bought him a truck only months before she died. and yet he should also benefit from the sale of her car? he wants me to pay to rebuild the yoga studio, so he can live there, so i can rent out the big house. like i am not able to rent out the big house without coming up with a way for him to stay. why the fuck should i pay for ANYTHING for him, really? he's not my semi-deadbeat boyfriend. he is not my responsibility, and yet he's just always looking for ways to nibble a little more for himself, here and there.
i can understand him being an older guy who's worried about his future. i can understand him worrying about what will happen to him. that's scary, i'm sure. and yet, mom took on the weight of caring for him out of her love for him, and in exchange for whatever emotional and energetic benefits she gained from their partnership. i, on the other hand, have gained nothing from knowing him, aside from frustration and annoyance and anger.
i know, i'm just ranting.
but it's just always so god damned sticky with him.
like, he sees my mom's car's sale as a way to solve his own problem, specifically, how to fix up the van. rather than taking the route that the rest of the world would take, namely getting a fucking job and making some fucking money, he goes for the easiest route to the money, namely tapping his favorite money source - my mom. only she's dead now and so *i* get to get tapped for his fucking crackpot ideas.
it's barely been a month and already i am really, really anxious to get rid of him from my life.
did i mention that he already emptied all my mom's drawers in their bedroom? yeah. he emptied them into bags and stuck them in her closet. he bedside table and her dresser. then when we were up he told me about all her stuff in the medicine cabinet, hinting that i could go through them at any time. fucking dude. i am up gathering things for her funeral, which hasn't even happened yet, because she's barely dead, you insensitive ass-face. i don't give a crap about her fucking face lotion. p.s. sorry the remnants of my mom's existence are so trying for you to be around. my mom, who bankrolled your crazy-ass for almost 10 years. yeah, sorry HER stuff being in HER house that i am allowing you to live in RENT FREE is harshing your mellow.
those were *my* drawers to go through. that was for me to do, as a way to come to terms with her passing. i wanted to know her better through the artifacts of her life. and he's basically bulldozing over the whole thing to make it all a more comfy chill out zone for him.
i think i was hasty to commit myself to a year of him.
in totally unrelated news, tacked on here at the end of my outburst, shannon spent all of yesterday shoveling moldy dirt out from under the house. it was fucking dreadful. he suffered sore muscles, low-ceilinged crawl spaces and, most horrifying of all, a potato bug on his arm. i am getting skeeved out just thinking about it. we covered the air vents in the house with black plastic, which seems to have greatly reduced the amount of moldy air that is coming into the house, and shannon felt he could tentatively say that he felt better this morning, with less mold coming in to attack him and make him wheeze.
so, that's nice news.