That thorn's not out yet

I'm seriously not letting this shit with the Loud family go. The more I think about them the more pissed I get.

My MIL came over today to help me work in the shambles I now laughingly call my kitchen and she filled us in more on the conversation (I'm really reaching there, aren't I?) she had with Daughter Loud.

According to her way of thinking, if we're disturbed by her father we should just leave our apartment and go out. B has a wheelchair. He can just get in the wheelchair and go out when it's too loud for him. Wow! Why in the fuck didn't I think of that?

Maybe because when it's the loudest it's dark outside.

I told that halfwit when she was here pleading her case that B is not able to sit upright for long and he's not able to control his body temperature properly and so he can't be out when it's below about 70 degrees. B doesn't stay inside confined to one room because he's lazy. He's stuck indoors because he has a profound spinal cord injury. Someone direct me to the nearest brick wall! I must pound the stupidity of her "idea" from my brain!

And you know what? He or I or anyone else shouldn't have to leave their home because some fuckwit upstairs can't figure out how to use a pair of headphones.

As for good news, Wolfgang didn't have to give the kitchen walls a second coat so he took his jazz and left. He didn't want any money for the work he did (I'd already paid for the paint). I flipped him a fifty and called us squared. I can't take free work from the dude. Just wouldn't sit right with me.

And for more good news my MIL got on her hands and knees and washed greasy crud off the floors from where the old appliances stood. God bless that woman. Tell me I didn't hit the MIL jackpot when I got her. She does stuff like that because she loves me as if I were her own child. And she does it because she doesn't trust me to clean things to her satisfaction.

Just like a mom, eh?