Bev Moved In

This is another of those posts that I am composing a day after the fact, but which I will pre-date at publication.

The reason I am so tardy in making the composition is because midday Saturday when my younger brother was set to drive over to his girlfriend Bev's home for the final time to help empty out what remained of her belongings and then bring her here, his ignition interlock device would not allow him to start his van.

To my irritation, he came back into the house and imposed upon me to be his surrogate breathalyzer 'blower'. I well suspected then that my day was going to be lost.

And so it was.

He and I were to take one vanload to the storage unit he had previously rented for her; and the three of us were also to bring a vanload of her belongings here.

Then as the afternoon died out, we returned to her place to finish up. Let's just say that if Bev had ever paid a damage deposit for the place when she first rented it ─ she said she'd been there for 16 years ─ she most definitely would not have deserved a cent of it back. Heck, she probably should be liable for cleanup and restoration costs.

But the fourplex she lived in probably deserves demolition. At least this time my brother and I saw no rats in the house (he had disposed of two dead ones on Wednesday, and I saw a live one walk into her living room from the outer open door, but there was no trace of it when we all checked the room).

So back the three of us came here early into the evening (Saturday).

As they began watching T.V. and drinking, I nurtured hopes of possibly getting to bed relatively early if only I was not drawn into having to operate our Android TV Box for T.V. entertainment. Had I not already been involved with them, I would have secluded myself here at my bedside computer with my bedroom door shut, but that seemed too rude after having spent so much time with them earlier.

And then at around 8:30 p.m. it happened ─ my brother issued the invitation to me to use our Android TV Box to tune in some entertainment (he does not understand how to operate it).

That was that ─ I was committed, and I knew that my Sunday morning was going to be lost to me ─ the best time of my week insofar as getting out to do some grocery shopping.

I was to tune in the following shows in this sequence:

• A Touch of Frost ─ the sole episode ("Endangered Species") of season or series 13.
• Route 66 ─ episode two ("A Lance of Straw") of season one.
• The Avengers ─ episode 25 ("Six Hands Across a Table") of season or series two.
• Peep Show ─ episode two ("Sectioning") of season or series three.

Bev only lasted into the second half of Route 66, and even then she was clearly not interested in the show, spending about 10 minutes loudly arguing with my brother about which of them typically sleeps on whatever side of the bed. I finally paused the episode so the two drunks could finish up and by then she was ready for him to assist her up the stairs to his bedroom for the night.

This disruption had been annoying, for I love these old series and know full well that at my age of 75 I will never again be watching any of them.

Incidentally, the episode featured as the main guest actress, beautiful Janice Rule, whose name is only barely familiar to me now after all of these years.

Over the evening I drank four cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol), and cannot say just when I got to bed ─ possibly 1:30 a.m.? Whatever the case, my brother claimed himself unable to sleep in his bed because Bev had practically sprawled across it, so he opted to sleep downstairs in my absent eldest stepson's bed. The 30-year-old moved out this past Tuesday or Wednesday to live with his girlfriend.

His younger brother is most upset about Bev moving in here because he had his heart set on taking over his brother's tiny bedroom to use as an office (he teleworks from home) and thus be spared from all of the noise fallout from the T.V. whenever it is playing.

But my brother wants to move Bev into that area ─ which is adjacent to the den and bedroom the 26-year-old basically lives in. This would mean she would be using the toilet there, and the lad would have to listen to her constant coughing (she is a smoker with COPD) with her sleeping so near.

As well, on those nights when he has gone to bed, his sleep would be further disrupted when Bev finally goes to bed if she manages to last that long in an evening watching T.V. with my brother and sometimes me. There is no doorway to his bedroom area ─ it is fully exposed.

So he has been threatening to his mother and to me that he cannot bear living that way ─ he would move out.

But there is more to this story that I will continue with in Sunday's post.