Sharing my bed & breakfast with you
Owning a house in a desirable location with empty guest rooms makes me feel selfish. My wife and I decided to rent them out to guests for bed and breakfast as well as longer term. We would like to take you on a journey of mystery and complexity and never ending fascination. You are about to hear about dreads of people caught in a circumstance called “living the dream”.
The soldier who ran out of butter
My old pal Ron moved in a month after I got married to Viktoria. When I was single I promised him a place to stay while he was in between deployments. He was an officer in the army responsible for “enhanced interrogation”. Yes, this means he gets to beat and torture the truth out of people. He told me everything I heard about torture was true, yet he enjoyed his work.
Ron was an only child, he was high and mighty. Always serving himself and expecting the best. We had a friend Magda who had to stay in our city overnight because her dog was in urgent care. Ron refused to let Magda use the bed in our guest room and asked her to sleep on a blow up mattress as he thinks he is the most important guest. He didn’t trust my foreign wife because she could be a spy.
We rented our car to him for the cost of repairs. We hosted him for about two months for free. One day he told my wife, “you’re out of butter.” We told him to move out.
The alcoholic on unemployment
Richard has a drinking problem. Every night at 11 o’clock he walks to the gas station and buys 2 malts and a 5th of liquor. Then he smokes on the back patio and combines the malts and liquor into a single tall cup. He continues to intoxicate his body until 3 or 4 AM when he passes out in a chair sitting upright. He wakes up, stumbles to the kitchen to cook 6 bratwurst. After eating he returned to his room and slept until late afternoon.
Richard attributes his unhappiness to losing his mother to cancer 4 years prior. I asked him why he drinks and smokes every night and he told me when his “ma” was alive he was a lot happier. Ever since she died, he’s just “had a lot to deal with.” The truth is, he has no self-control, and he’s addicted to his vices.
Richard went to prison a few years ago. He was out at a bar getting drunk until he decided to drive home. He made it all the way to the driveway where he fell asleep. His neighbor thought someone was trying to steal his car and called the police. The car was still running with the keys in the ignition when the police arrived and they took him to jail.
In jail it was determined that he was a hazard to his own and other people’s safety, and it was sent to a private prison for “correction”. When he was released from prison, he took his mother’s car.
He stopped paying for the car but they were unable to find it to repossess it since he had it parked at a different address than where it is registered. He filed for bankruptcy. He has terrible credit, a criminal record, and deceased mother who use to baby him.
Richard got a job as phone support for booking vacations. He called my wife Viktoria, who he met through church before his mother died and asked her to rent a room from us since he had to walk to work few blocks from where we live. We offered him a room for rent.
Richard had a breathalyzer on his car. His less intelligent friends offered to breath into the device for him. He smelled terrible after he drank. He fell asleep mid-conversation with a lit cigarette in his mouth. He worked six months at a job, then quit so that he could claim unemployment. Somehow he had enough to pay rent, intoxicate himself every night, and eat over boiled Italian sausages. The cycle repeats itself for 2 years until we ask him to find another place within 30 days.
This is when he informed us about squatters laws. A tenant has the ability to live in the house without paying rent until a court orders police to remove the person from the residence. This processes can take anywhere between 1 and 48 months in some cases.
The Russian “maid”
Maid is in quotations because she cleans the kitchen counters with the same washcloth as she used on toilet seats. I heard maids in hotel rooms do this also to save money and because they are lazy. Her name is Natalia.
This particular maid worked for a person my wife knew in the past. Natalia was first hired to make an ex-wife of her wealthy boss jealous. My wife Viktoria dated the maids boss and got to know all of his employees. He wanted his ex to see that he is surrounded by hot young European women all the time. He called himself a “self made millionaire” who owned a pyramid scheme selling “reverse funnel system” CD’s on how to make millions of dollars to suckers over the internet. His ex-wife Pam is a lawyer that helped him set it all up. Pam knows how to take advantage of the legal system, knows all the loopholes, changes her name and moves to Florida where she opens yet another scam business: expensive private schools.
Natalia looks up to my wife Viktoria and asks to rent a room from us. We agree to help her while she studies. She pays 400 dollars rent per month. She studies to become a doctor. Her medical school is in Mexico and she only needs to take one last exam in order to get an internship at a hospital in the States. She studies every day, then emerges from her room at about 12 noon and spends the next 2 hours in the bathroom. She needs to shower and do her makeup to spend the next 4 hours in her bedroom studying.
Natalia has always been insecure about her appearance. While she was studying in Mexico she bought a breast implant. Her boyfriend at the time bought the other breast implant, adding up to two. If they break up does she have to return one?
Natalia emerges again around 6. She goes on a date through a popular dating app. Sometimes my wife and I are lucky enough to meet her lucky man. They aren’t allowed to spend the night, but a few spend the night anyways against the house rules.
Natalia always thinks she has the money to spend. She co-signed on an interest free education based loan. She’s 250 thousand dollars in debt, and we’re curious to see what happens when her next suitor finds out. We introduce her to our friend Adam from Greece and we go on a vacation for a few days to a nearby town to go jet-skiing. Adam thinks that he is in love, but she worries him sick when she disappears and suddenly stops all communication with everyone.
Natalia has a free spirit, she leaves for Mexico and we don’t hear from her for months. As it turns out, she was vacationing with her other boyfriend and didn’t communicate with anyone, not even her family. The next time we see her, she needs to move in again because she found a doctoring job nearby and we are her only friends. Oddly enough, she’s still sleeping in until noon, and we never see her go to work. She moves to LA to start her life over. She lives with a few new suitors and is a self-proclaimed stock market financial advisor for men who like to stare.
The Californian dreaming
A girl grows up in a small American boarder town, goes to college, and moves to California. Her retired army veteran father pays her rent in California and she aspires to be an actress/supermodel for five years. She finds a small role in a pilot for a dating TV show. She learns how to live LA style: work part time for nothing at an Armenian owned yoga studio, sell her car that wouldn’t pass emission test, go to auditions.
This giraffe of a woman moves home because her aging father can’t afford to take care of his health and pay for her to start a Californian career any longer. The first time I met her was at her apartment in California when my wife and I went to a concert. Physically she seemed to be in good health, but she has terrible acne that she tries to hide with caked on makeup.
Now Janet needs a room for rent in a town with better job opportunities, but can’t afford the California cost of living. We find her a job in a cafe nearby, and drive her to work everyday. After work, she comes home to a room cluttered with bags of belongings arranged no heavier than 5 pounds.
Janet suffers from a back injury that was voluntarily operated on years ago. She also appears to be suffering from a brain injury called “California dreaming”. She runs an empty load of laundry with water only. There are no clothes in the washer, but she thinks the machine needs to get rinsed off wasting large load of water. She is convinced we are trying to poison her with our cleaning products that she is allergic to. I was unaware how many allergies a person may possibly have.
Janette pretends to be 100% organic, gluten free yet bleaches her hair and creates the most waste when “saving the planet”. She leaves diaries with letters to Jesus so people can read them and calls herself a Christian but is very self centered and never offers to help with cooking or cleaning. She sprayed one of her organic household cleaners in her mouth. That was weird.
We met bartender at a local pub. He had a good sense of humor, and asks us to visit him at work sometime. The bar he works at is at a prestigious resort. He serves us drinks and ice cream sundaes on the house. His name is Nick.
We have a cookout with Nick and his girlfriend. Shortly after we hear Nick must go to court because he was driving a car and swerving on the road when a police officer was called that Nick was beating her. We didn’t realize at the time why Nick wasn’t allowed to drive.
We went to court with Nick. We thought it was crazy that this kind, young man would hit a girl. He claimed that in a domestic violence case, someone always ends up going to jail. It was actually his abusive girlfriend that was beating him, but because he walked away from her and the car when the female police officer picked him up, his girlfriends testimony was the only one that was recorded.
Nick asks to store some things in our garage while he moves out of his girlfriends apartment and in with another friend. A few years go by and we find someone to finally take his drum-set out of our garage. We hear from Nick again online that he has a new job and no cell phone.
Another year goes by and Nick needs a place to live. He messages us online that he is working at a new place and invites us to dine there. We tell him he can stay for a week but only if he pays rent. He asks us to help him rent a moving truck and move in to our guest bedroom. We gave him the benefit of the doubt. The first night goes well.
The second night, we had a few friends over and they brought some beers. Nick goes to the fridge repeatedly to get himself a beer. We go to bed and Nick goes to the fridge again. Nick stays in his room sleeping until 4 PM the next day. We knock on the door and open it to offer him a sandwich we bought for him.
Nick covered his dog, Bebe, in oil and vinegar because she “has an allergy”. Bebe chases our small dogs and frustrates them. Nick’s dog also wipes itself off on leather furniture, we agree that it should spend most of it’s time in our garden or in his bedroom. Bebe throws up and Nick is worried. Nick turns his worry into drinking and serves himself 4 more beers at night.
Nick hasn’t paid rent for over a week like we agreed on, we invited him in because we thought we can trust him. Nick returns home after Viktoria sends a picture of his dog in the bedroom after throwing up covered in vinegar. Nick returns home at 2 AM and screams in front of our locked bedroom door. Nick yells, “my dog isn’t a c**t, she’s a f**king princess.” Obviously inebriated, no one ever called Nick’s dog bad names.
We ask Nick to move out the next day, his brother Arnie comes over with a truck, a black eye, and a broken wrist to help him move. We see a tear in Nicks eyes and we never hear from him again. We did a background check on Nick. Apparently he has multiple felonies for abuse and violence, and he’s not allowed to drive a car. His brother has multiple felonies also.
The unlucky, messy politician
Just because you are messy at home, doesn’t necessarily mean you aren’t smart or should work for city council. A man from a ghetto suddenly leaves his girlfriend with 20 pets and a child he was helping her raise; cats and dogs locked in a basement. He moves to a sunnier place and books a few nights stay through a popular bed and breakfast service. His plan was to look for a place to rent and his company paid to relocate him.
The day he lands, I get a phone call to pick him up from the airport. I was on my way but my new car starts to sputter and then engine dies in traffic. I call a tow truck and let him know he will have to call for a taxi from the airport. Turns out the car sputtered because a piece of styrofoam was caught in the intake for the gas pressure sensor. It was easily fixed at zero cost.
The man arrives ecstatic about his new sunny environment. He claims it’s paradise here. We learn about the condition he came from, and comparatively, I could understand how this would seem like paradise. We also learn he’s looking for a place to stay long term, and he has an obedient dog that is being delivered at the company’s relocation expense.
Cautiously, we offer him a room on a month to month basis. We had a lot to learn from each other. The man we call Jack is balding. He decides to shave his head completely. His dog arrives and they make a home for themselves in the room at the end of the house. The “mother-in-law-quarters.”
Jack is a democrat which means he believes sharing, kindness, and equality are paramount to a successful country. He is white, but he hates white people and believes they are the Devil. He grew up in a neighborhood where he was one of only 3 white kids in his school. He’s seen first hand what is means to be “held down by the white man.”
His mother was a teenager, living in a mental hospital when she met his father. Jack was conceived in the mental hospital where his parents met. When I met Jack, his father was in prison. When his father was released from prison, Jack went to visit him on skid-row. Jack treats his father to a nice hotel room to wash up and then says goodbye.
His father just purchased an RV without a title. The RV was shortly thereafter impounded, and his father was again empty-handed. Jack was there to advise him on the deal but was upset when it didn’t work out. Jack’s father is now gay, and what they believe “thankfully immune to AIDS due to a genetic trait found in 1/4 of German descended population”. No science to support it.
Jack only dates girls with problems and mental illness. He calls it his “save a ho radar.” He falls in love with a woman that lives with a pet pig and hides the fact that she has a husband and child in another state. Eventually, without notice, she moves away and Jack goes to the neighboring state to visit her. He is in love after-all.
Jack is filthy. He claims that there is no trash in his room until the stench provokes my wife and I to do a little cleanup in his room. We extract 3 large trash bags full of empty soda containers, fast food, pizza boxes, candy wrappers. Everything is covered in dog hair. He only does his laundry once per month. There is underwear, socks, and chewed up shoes all over the floor.
His dog Tripp spends most of its time in the bedroom, my wife Viktoria lets it outside for about 4 hours every day, periodically throughout the day. When Jack comes home, he puts the dog outside, and then returns to his room to play video games on a big screen TV. Jack shaves his head and his face and leaves hair all over the sink.
Jack’s hybrid-electric car recently purchased at 25% interest rate is in similar condition to his brain. It’s messy, and the smell of trash is trying to be concealed by an artificial cherry scent in a small can in the middle of the dash. It doesn’t work that well.
The Russian maid Natalia moves in during Jack’s stay and they make friends. They stay up all night every night playing card games and yelling at night at the end of the hallway. To his surprise, Natalia moves to California. We asked Jack to find another place to live because he is so irresponsible.
Jack, begging for a second chance at being a great room mate, moves back in after 6 months of living downtown. He’s been elected for a position on the art council for the city. If only they saw his bedroom.
Jack falls in love again, with a girl with a lip ring and many tattoos. She’s shy, and jealous. He lies to her about living with other female room mate in the house. Jack and his girlfriend Destruction are invited to his company dinner event. She threatens to kill any female who tries to take Jack away from her on a work group thread. Jack is called in to the corporate head of security because his female coworkers are really worried for their safety.
Destruction likes to play “questions and answers” games, when she doesn’t like the answer, she jumps out of his car traveling 30 miles per hour, and texts him non-stop throughout the work day until he has no choice but to break it off with her. He has horrible taste in women and really bad luck.
After 6 months and dozens of broken house rules and empty promises, we ask Jack to look for a new place.
So silky and smooth like a baby’s bottom
Deepak needs a place to stay. He is a contractor on a work visa for a finance company. He’s in to computers so naturally us nerds get along.
Deepak wakes up every day at 5 AM to use the bathroom when the house is very quiet. We hear everything…
First, a door opens and shuts. Squeaky flip-flops travel 3 feet until another door opens and shuts. Deepak is excited to start his day in this porcelain tile paradise. His hair is beginning to gray, but his medium skin is soft like a baby’s butt. There isn’t a wrinkle on him. His gut stretches over his pants to create a perfectly smooth inner-tube of India privilege.
He begins his morning routine. The toilet seat flips up, and the sink faucet comes on. Who wouldn’t do the courtesy of wasting water while farting out last night’s curry. I almost feel sorry for him, this amount of gas must make him feel bloated. Maybe he isn’t use to the fatty American diet, and he said he just started eating meat. Even though I know many of his “homies” are respectfully and cost effectively vegetarian.
The noise pours out of him, a hasty blast followed by 3 plops and long fog horn fart from his bowels. Three more short farts like a machine gun and one last plop. It reminds me of a young dutch child playing trombone at his first recital. The lid bangs shut; at least he closes the toilet lid. An about-face, a flush. A squirt of soap with the water still running, and the door opens quickly. He returns to his room.
Deepak now relieved from the previous day’s intake of meat fats is ready to get ready. The bedroom door opens and shuts, squeaky shoes drag across the 3 feet separating him from his bedroom full of plastic bags full of clothes and his bathroom paradise. 5:20 AM, the bathroom door opens and shuts.
This time the bathtub faucet opens. The water runs for 10 minutes and then shuts off. Deepak emerges a fresh man, or so we thought. Squeaky shoes rush back to his room, doors open and shut in between. Again, doors open and shut and he is back in the bathroom 3 minutes later.
“So smooth like a baby’s bottom!” Deepak covers himself in skin lightening lotion. He must love the skin he is in, but he’ll love it even more if its just slightly more white. This is his privilege, his symbol of status. He is rich, and every penny counts. His skin is now the color of a slightly less rusted penny. 5:50 AM the doors clank, the shoes squeak and drag across the floor.
10 minutes is enough time for me to fall back to sleep. 6 AM Deepak emerges again. Doors opening and shutting, the faucet running. He brushes his teeth. Doors open and shut, he squeaks back to his room. Doors open and shut, he returns the the bathroom and gargles and spits. Doors open and shut, squeaking and dragging his moist flip-flops back and forth from his room. He has to make a few trips. It would be too efficient to just stay in the bathroom until he is ready. He rinses his mouth with mouth wash again gargles, spits, clears his throat and slams the doors.
The shower starts again. Time to rinse the skin preserving and lightening cream from his skin to release even better shiny rusted penny colored skin underneath. This man is truly rich! Only 15 minutes in the shower this time. Doors open and shut, squeaky shoes across the floor. Deepak can finally rest in his room while he picks out a button up shirt and dress pants.
The man dresses well enough. He looks like someone that belongs to interviewing at a finance company. His shirts are always pressed against his inner-tube shaped belly. Different healed shoes knock down the hall and out the front door. He does something in his car every morning and returns 5 minutes later to the bathroom again. The final step.
He is now ready to start his day. 7 AM he leaves through the front door to find the nearest “homie” owned hotel continental breakfast franchise to help himself to a free continental breakfast. Wouldn’t want that cold wealthy food to go to waste.
Midday he returns, his undershirt likely covered in sweat. He treats himself to another 35 minute shower routine before “working” on his computer in his room. He is always looking for a new job.
Success! Deepak has a date! I ask him, “what would your arranged wife and kids back in home think?” Deepak responds, “what happens there, stays there.” Typical, I shrugged.
Baby Alibaba and the 40 nights
What can I say? I have learned a lot. We have a lot of multi-national visitors to our household. Some Canadian, some Philippine, Vietnamese, French, Swiss, Chinese, Russian. Some from Saudi Arabia seeking Citizenship through an anchor baby nearly born.
Living in the desert we use to hear the term anchor baby, applied to Mexican mothers who cross the border in the US, have a child, and then cannot be deported with said child because the child is born American. This makes sense to me ethically, as America is just a place to be with name and ground to stand on.
It never crossed my mind that the same con could be pulled off by Saudi Arabians and other nationalities from all over the world. Truly a melting pot of desperation! Pun intended, we actually went to melting pot the restaurant. It was determined that at least half of the meal was “Haram”. This word in Arabic means “forbidden.” But our guests ate the forbidden food anyways, maybe just so they didn’t appear rude to their American hosts, or because they aren’t as strict as their parents.
During the 40 nights of Ramadan, it is customary for the people to awake at 4 PM in the afternoon. Eat breakfast, and go to church at midnight, where they must pray for at least the next 4 hours. At 4 AM, they return home, eat “dinner” and go back to sleep by 7 AM. This is the opposite of “circadian rhythm” and in conflict with people living a normal workday spending the hottest part of the day in air-conditioning. That is the point. In Saudi Arabia, it is hot during mid day, so why not use religion as an excuse to avoid the most horrible part of the day and practice your faith at night instead?
Father Alibaba called my wife and asked if he and his wife could stay with us while they have a baby in America. Thinking nothing of the problems this creates for the immigration office, we agreed.
The day their flight arrives, we are surprised to be greeted by Father Haram, Mother Haram, Brother Haram, Mother Alibaba with a ripe belly ready to pop. In less than a month we will be living with a new born baby, they will obtain the paperwork and return to Saudi Arabia.
You see, Saudi Arabian educational systems have a problem. They want to attract talent from other countries so they make college education for foreigners more appealing. For this reason, Father Alibaba came to America to obtain a foreign citizenship for their child, so that when the child is old enough, it can attend a better college not offered to Saudi nationals. They have no intention of being an American national, or serving our economy, or paying taxes to the US.
Father Haram works for the oil company. He has a house outside of town that Father Alibaba is not allowed to visit due to tribal differences. If Father Alibaba went to Father Haram’s house, Father Alibaba would be fired from his position at work over suspicion of being a spy for another tribe. Father Haram’s house was fired upon by automatic rifles when their hot water tank exploded and flooded their garage. Luckily they were safely in America at the time, but this is very upsetting. Father Haram loves his home, he’s covered it in grass and fruit trees, and he has done well for himself and his family that is allowed to see it.
Father Alibaba had to work, so he showed up a month later, when his wife was nearly her delivery date. We learn they aren’t as strict as their parents. They wear head covers, unlike some of our more liberated friends who only wear head covers in front of other people who wear head covers, but not in front of us. Their hair is truly beautiful and attractive. Mother Alibaba wears a head cover and understands that it is a religious symbol, but does not equate it to a skin head wearing a neckless or a tattoo of a cross. I never got to see Mother Alibaba’s hair. Mother Alibaba went to a beach in a nearby country and took off her head dress to relax; that must have been exciting.
They assure us they aren’t as invested in their religion as their parents are. When Father Haram wants to go to church Father Alibaba argues his wife his pregnant, he wants to stay (and sleep) and tend to his wife. Father Haram insists and leave the women to tend to their household. Mother Haram has terrible teeth (to the point we feel sorrow for the woman), and she never leaves the house the entire trip. She cleans and cooks in the bedroom, and sometimes tries to communicate with us.
Father Haram is a strict man. He screams and yells when he is angry. He attends church religiously during Ramadan. He takes good care of his family, they are safe and they eat well, at least from what we can smell.
Alas! The baby Alibaba is born. They swaddle the child and they are off to Las Vegas! Not my choice for a newborn, but to each’s own.
Lazy Susan and the government conspiracy
Carl responds to an ad for a room. He is a 50+ year old man, friendly and easy going. He’s looking for a room. We invite him for an interview. We expect to find a journey man with some craft that works contracts, makes plenty of money, and will be an easy-going roommate.
Carl knocks on the front door at the scheduled time with a wife and his daughter. Carl explains that his daughter Susan is actually the one needing a room. She’s a quiet and shy girl, her hair is longer than her shoulders and covers her eyes. Her face tilts slightly sideways and she looks like she’s trying NOT to smile. She wears a long dress, and fluffy socks.
We give Carl and family a tour of the house. We show them the rooms, the bathroom, and my beloved luscious and green backyard. Carl explains “it’s time for my little bird to fly out of the nest.” She has an associates degree and works, but wants to take some online classes.
My wife Viktoria responds with the questions outright, ”how old is your little bird?”. Carl responds 33. Viktoria is a bit concerned she never lived away from the house at this age and her parents had to drive her. Carl, his wife, and Susan retreat outside. They look around, and then I follow them outside. Viktoria stays behind and prepares tea and pie in the kitchen. I start small talk outside and explain I am cleaning up the yard a bit, but the hot tub is working well. When I look in Carl’s eyes, he realizes he’s met his match. Carl looks like he’s about to tear up and asks, “can she please stay here? I don’t want her bouncing around.” I thought he needed a long deserved honeymoon with his wife. Carl jokes, “I hope she doesn’t find the bars.”
We learn his wife is actually Susan’s step mother. I paid no attention to Carl’s left-handed comments. My wife and I deliberated on every possibility of how odd the roommate candidate was. Carl was ready to pay 3.5 months rent up-front. We were looking forward to the extra cash, but at what cost? I should have listened to the warnings.
The next day, Carl eager to free himself of the teenager going on mid-thirties returned, paid the price we asked for, and left his daughter Susan with a few suitcases and food from the morning’s grocery store visit. Susan settled in to her room and said “this is perfect, thank you.” After moving in, she had a few phone calls to make.
The next day we had a cookout with some friends. We had grilled cheese burgers, and a chance to get to know our new resident. Susan was living up north. We learned she was estranged from her mother and the alarm bells went off. The problem with many young women these days, is actually their mothers. When a woman says she hates her mother, I know there is trouble. Susan explains, “I don’t even know what mothers are for.”
Susan probably should never be one then.
Susan likens herself to an Edward Snowden full of governments conspiring against her to ruin her life and track her every move. The next night, Susan is banging around the kitchen at 3 AM. She likes to cook garlic in the middle of the night. She eats mostly frozen food loaded with meat, and slices of individually wraped pieces of garlic bread.
Susan never offers to share anything with anyone else in the household. She talks on the phone or maybe to herself in her bedroom for 12 hours per day. She isn’t taking any classes. She carries a blue backpack packed full of something with her outside every day at 8 PM. She walks to stores in 100 F weather, and doesn’t drive a car. She walks alone and doesn’t try to make friends.
One day, Susan bought a roller suitcase and packed it full of groceries. The wheels pop off so she drags it down the sidewalk when my wife spots her from the car. “Would you like a ride home Susan?” Viktoria yells. Susan keeps walking without looking up. Viktoria reverses the car to catch up with Susan. “Hello, would you like a ride back to the house?” Viktoria yells again. Susan stops and says “Oh it’s you, I got a lot of rude people stopping.” gets in the back of the car and complains about the quality of the suitcase she bought.
Susan wears an ankle bracelet and is under house arrest. It’s not a fitness tracker like I originally thought.
Susan turns out to be a mom. She tried to visit her children outside of custody orders. She “kidnapped” her son and took him to a homeless shelter where she tried to home-school him. Her daughter is elsewhere, living with the father or in foster care. Susan was extradited to a neighboring state for the felony crime of abduction. As she loudly explains on the phone to someone, “the state of California hates me.”
We did a background check on Susan and even found a mug shot online from her arrest. Carl never mentioned any of this before she moved in, but suddenly a lot made sense. She must have fried her brain with LSD and now she has a criminal record.
Susan avoids common areas in the house because she isn’t a social butterfly. Before she comes out of her room she checks to see if anyone is in sight. She never says good morning or hello to anyone. If you do say hello, she’s taken aback with surprise, she stumbles, curses, apologizes and doesn’t return the greeting. She runs to the bathroom and when she is finished she runs back to her room. Sometimes she asks other males in the household for favors such as picking up food for her or driving her somewhere to run errands. She said she prefers making friends with men. She sounds angry at all times, never says please or thank you.
Susan uses profanity at 2 AM on the phone, bangs on some pots and cooks at 3 AM, and makes some sort of noise all day long. She says she had issues with her hearing before and she apologizes if she is loud. She said she is more spiritual now, and she felt a lot better when she stopped going to church. She often listens to Teen Spirit by Nirvana and she plays a song called Flagpole Sitta, but only sings the part that says “I’m not sick, but I’m not well, cause I’m in hell.”
People have the power to create heaven on earth, but some people create hell. Is this a dread of an innocent person caught in a circumstance or do we all make the bed and breakfast we want to stay in?