Mr. U left on Wednesday, but didn't take his stuff with him. There were plans for him to stay with a friend on Wednesday and move into a new place on Thursday. That's, at least, what he told me. I realized as I showered this morning that Mr. U's soap and shampoo were no longer in my shower.
I actually did a bit of a happy dance.
Here is how the most recent exchange went:
U: How was your weekend? You guys have fun?
Me: We had an awesome weekend.
U: Cool, well I'm on my way back to yours
This was at 5:00 p.m. I chose not to answer until 10:30 p.m.
Me: Coming to get your stuff to move to A's place?
U: I can't move to A's, he is in the hospital.
At this point, I'm not sure who or what to believe. I feel like it has been on excuse after another for months on end. I decide not to reply and to speak to Mr. U. in person if he decides to come to my place.
As my alarm rings in the morning, I wake up and hear no television going. That was my first sign that Mr. U. didn't come back home. I walked out to my living room and his stuff was still there, but it didn't look like he cam home.
I chose to send him one final message, since I doubted I would get a chance to tell him in person.
Me: I need you to get your stuff out of my place and find another place to stay.
For those of you reading this who know me, you know that I continue to be upset that I had to send this. I want my friend to succeed. I want him to have a safe place to stay. I also, though, don't feel like I need to provide food, alcohol, internet, and living space to someone for nine months who is not my husband, child, or family member. And even if it was one of those three, you can bet that I'd expect them to contribute on a regular basis.
As hard as that was, it has been liberating to not have Mr. U on my sofa and the television playing during this past week. Hopefully he has been able to move into his friends place and he'll get his stuff out of my place soon. I know that Mr. A is dog sitting today based on his facebook, so I'm guessing he is out of the hospital.
I actually did a bit of a happy dance.
Here is how the most recent exchange went:
U: How was your weekend? You guys have fun?
Me: We had an awesome weekend.
U: Cool, well I'm on my way back to yours
This was at 5:00 p.m. I chose not to answer until 10:30 p.m.
Me: Coming to get your stuff to move to A's place?
U: I can't move to A's, he is in the hospital.
At this point, I'm not sure who or what to believe. I feel like it has been on excuse after another for months on end. I decide not to reply and to speak to Mr. U. in person if he decides to come to my place.
As my alarm rings in the morning, I wake up and hear no television going. That was my first sign that Mr. U. didn't come back home. I walked out to my living room and his stuff was still there, but it didn't look like he cam home.
I chose to send him one final message, since I doubted I would get a chance to tell him in person.
Me: I need you to get your stuff out of my place and find another place to stay.
For those of you reading this who know me, you know that I continue to be upset that I had to send this. I want my friend to succeed. I want him to have a safe place to stay. I also, though, don't feel like I need to provide food, alcohol, internet, and living space to someone for nine months who is not my husband, child, or family member. And even if it was one of those three, you can bet that I'd expect them to contribute on a regular basis.
As hard as that was, it has been liberating to not have Mr. U on my sofa and the television playing during this past week. Hopefully he has been able to move into his friends place and he'll get his stuff out of my place soon. I know that Mr. A is dog sitting today based on his facebook, so I'm guessing he is out of the hospital.
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