It's over, and I'm a little drunk.

I know one should never text or phone or blog when drunk. But well... Obi's mates came over to watch the hockey and one of them still hasn't left. Which btw I think is rude of Obi. Common sense should tell him that right now is not the time for one more game of chess, but whatever. Maybe the burbon is making me cranky. I hate drinking because it's like being on your period, you never know if what you're feeling is what you'd be feeling if you were still rational.

Anyway, my sister settled. For 6 grand more than we hoped, but 69 thousand less than the guy was asking. Good on her. It's over. He'll be out of our house in 28 days. Why don't I feel any better then? *sigh*

Now my sister, who has always sacrificed so so much for me, has to take a loan to pay this fucker out. I can't help. At all. I almost want to ask Obi to give me ten grand of his settlement money so I can pay my share, so my sister doesn't have to do this all alone again. Only, I know he woldn't gove/lend me the money. He's all "it's our money" until I actually want a say in what happens to it. Then he turns into a right arsehole. And I've said as much to him, we're working on that.

Gods. I just want to cry, but this bloke is still in my house. WTF Obi? C'mon. Earlier, I was on the phone with my sister talking this over and this guy picks up my diary (luckily it's my noveling diary, not my Book of Shadows) and starts reading it - in front of Obi who says nothing. He'll hear about that don't you worry.

Fuck. 21 grand. Thankfully 5 of which are legal fees. He asked 22 grand, not inclusive of costs months and months ago and my sister said yes. But then he got greedy. Now he gets less than that. Bet he's kicking himself as he drives home today. I hate him. He still has 28 days in my house and God only knows what damage he does before he finally gets out. My poor sister. Most people don't know why she hates her job, but I know. It's half of why I feel guilty. And angry at myself. Being here, cleaning toilets, spending my whole freaking pay to support a guy who could in the least have gotten a part time job to help us out but has too much pride to bloody do so.

Don't read me wrong. I love being the breadwinner. I'm cool with that - when there's a reason for it. But if you're sitting on your arse at home playing starcraft2 and I have to demand that you do every little bit of housework before you do it YOU ARE NOT PULLING YOUR WEIGHT. Lately he's been asking me more and more to cook, or do little things that he should be doing and it's pissing me right off. I've had house stress and visa stress and I-find-out-in-a-week-if-my-only-surviving-aunt-has-cancer stress, on top of working my arse of at my lovely unfulfilling job in a country I can't wait to get out of while he's sitting on his arse and I can't come home to a hot meal and a clean house? What the fuck. Honestly.

Half an hour ish passes and that guy is still here. I'm getting angry. Probably the grog. Shouldn't have had those shots, I know. But fair go mate. Drinking water, I'll be ok in a little while. I wonder, maybe I was just suppressing this anger?

We're paying for that bitch to come to our wedding you know that? We had this massive blue over it, and the money and everything. She doesn't diserve it. Obi feels cheated. It's the best solution, I know that, I suggested it originally, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Finally hes leaving. I'll rant more later.