If It's Not One Thing It's Bob Part Dos

 

Not my mother's haunted doll mansionette, but I feel like spray painting this on Bob's wall.

Bob continues to be a fly in the ointment. We got a real estate agent we like a lot, and we're in the process of figuring out a price. She thinks the place will sell rapidly because it's right on the country club golf course, even needing a new roof and a few other improvements. It's move in ready, I mean you can live there no problem, while you do the work.

Bob is LIVID! He shouted at the husband yesterday. He didn't know I was right there, just inside the door listening. I love my husband as he forced Bob to stop using polite euphemisms and spit out what he meant by "undesirables" - Blacks, of course!

Get fucked Bob! You offended the wrong gal with mixed race heritage. 

We're clearing out the room of boxes - the dining room. House is clean, even if I must pick up a bit in one of the bedrooms. Life is good, just not with Bob.

Mom is not good, she's way worse now and I'm sort of heartbroken over all of this. No matter our history I do love her. 

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