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Illustration for article titled Moving and family interference

I’m going to do some inane rambling about family, so if that doesn’t sound like a good start to your Monday, please skip this.


Mr. Cunning and I are house hunting. We’re looking in the town where both my parents and we live, so every week, my mother calls about a house she saw. That, I don’t have a problem with, since hey, it’s nice to know that a good looking house went up for sale.

Each time, I look it up, and each time, it misses one of our hard criteria: price, number of bathrooms, number of bedrooms, can’t be that one layout in town that I dislike. Each time, I tell her this. And each time, she pushes even harder on the house. It’s like she’s getting a cut or something.


“You can do fine with two bathrooms! We did fine!”

“There were only two of us, so yes, that math worked out. We have four people.”

“I bet that you can finish the furnace room and make that into an office for you!”


“No way in hell am I working all day from a furnace room.”

“Ours looks nice!”

“You stay in it eight hours a day, then.”

“This one has a nice yard!”

“And it has the kitchen in the basement, which you know I hate with a passion. It makes entertaining impossible.”


“Oh, you get used to it. You just have to keep your whole house clean all the time!” (THIS IS A FUCKING QUOTE, I SWEAR).

“It’s really not that much over your max price. It would only be a few hundred more a month!”


“Which would screw up our math when it comes to paying it off in ten years.”

“I just think you should keep an open mind...”

At this point, I have to pull up RedFin to show her that YES, there are PLENTY of houses within my totally-not-crazy requirements.


And my step-father? He wants us to get a fixer-upper so he can turn it into a ‘project.’ Dude, I just want to move my shit in and get on with my life. I don’t want to have to replace all the drywall on a floor or gut the kitchen just to make it livable. The most we’ll be doing is putting down new floor and painting the walls. That’s. It.

I should have never told my parents that we were actively looking. I should have just kept mum until we had signed papers. Since misery loves company, anyone else want to rant about interfering family during moves?

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