Frustrating.

The basement people thing is getting well beyond out of hand. I want my space back. Like...ALL my space. I want my privacy, I want my family time, and I want my fucking basement back. I want to run on my treadmill, but we are OUT of space upstairs, running on it in the un-heated, no electricity, no door or windows garage is just ridiculous. I want to feel like I can spend time in my own house without having to be polite to "guests" that wander up, and without having to worry about being sent on a guilt trip over someone else's marital woes, financial difficulties, or depression issues...or frankly whatever the whine fest du-jour is. Suck it up, get a fucking job at McDonalds, pay the rent, and save up the money to get the fuck out. The whole (we thought) 3-6 month thing, that after moving in turned into "what if a year turns into 2?" is NOT ACCEPTABLE.

Now, if only I had the balls to share this information with them. But NO. I feel BAD because they have sent me on and all expenses paid (by me) Guilt Cruise, and the thought of adding to the stress in their lives just increases the stress in mine. It is a vicious fucking cycle that is spinning me in tighter and tighter circles...I am NOT used to being tightly wound.