Flying the Coop

After an embarrassing amount of begging and pleading (plus maybe a teeny, tiny amount of crying and clinging on my part), Morley and I convinced Heather to move in with us a couple of years ago. Even though we realize she's a grown woman and all, we just like having her around plus we had all that space upstairs that nobody ever used which we were paying for anyway and was going to waste, plus we already had a storage unit where she could store her stuff, plus it would be fun for the three of us to hang out together--for us it was a no brainer.

But for Heather it was a big decision to give up her own place to move in with the old folks so we chipped away at her until we wore her down and she finally agreed to be our roomie, except she put strict timelines on the deal.

When her deadline for moving out came, Morley and I shamelessly ganged up on her and locked her in a dark closet with no food or water until she agreed to an extension, and then we immediately returned to our happy place of denial that she would ever mention moving out ever again.

Well, the extended deadline has arrived and this time the little brat is sticking to her guns. A couple of weeks ago she found a cute place in a swanky neighborhood close to her friends and great places to shop and lots of trendy places to hang out, and this time she ignored our whining and pleading.

To snap us out of our denial she put in her car last week and took us to check out her new digs.

On the drive over Morley tried talking her out of it, but she just turned up the radio really loud to drown him out.

We gave the new place the once over hoping to find a serious infestation of bugs or a major structural defect--something! anything!--we could use as ammunition to scare her off, but no such luck. It is a darling place in perfect condition.

I scouted out the neighbors trying to find evidence of a serial killer or even a Obama campaign sign but all I found were a bunch of nice people with good solid jobs and no criminal records, plus a few Libertarian bumper stickers and a couple of McCain/Palin and Fair Tax signs.

I informed Morley of what I'd seen in the neighborhood and here's how he reacted: he said he thought it was a cool place. The traitor.


And then Heather ordered us out to her car which just happened to be crammed full of stuff that needed to be carried into her new place.

I think she'd planned this whole thing.

Brat.