Well, I’m sorry to report that Day 6 didn’t fare any better. After my blowup the day prior over my grandfather’s car, I was still super irritable. Originally, two people had expressed interest in test driving the car. On Thursday night, we had met the first guy at the local middle school. He was giving me crap about how the car wasn’t in mint condition, and for that reason, he wanted me to come down $1200. Look dude, I see your car. You are NOT meticulous. He gave me some bullshit argument saying that while the front bumper might appear only superficially scratched, inside there could be real damage, like with things about to fall off. I grabbed the bumper and tugged. It feels pretty dang secure. He said, yeah it seems to be loose. I went over to his car and tugged the same area: um, it feels exactly the same as yours. Long story short, that deal didn’t go through.

So Friday morning, I wake up and head downstairs. I can’t find my suitcase, which I had sprawled out on the floor against the wall in the dining room. I have no place for my stuff in my bedroom bc mom has taken over the closet and drawers. I need somewhere to see my stuff. So I get annoyed with dad about that. He says I’m bringing all these people into the house and this open suitcase is a trip hazard. Argh, people can just walk around it! The house is already a mess; stop trying to tidy for the realtor and estate sale people! 

Then dad tells me I’m stressing him out, bc of all these things I’m demanding of him. That’s when I REALLY lose it. WTF? You have been telling me since January that you wanted me to help you sell the fucking car. I booked my flight over a month ago and I told you to get the paperwork ready. You are not going to pin this shit onto me. I told you from the beginning to get power of attorney for all the shit you were going to handle with the grandparents. It’s not my problem you refuse to ask them for that and you can’t figure out how to shuttle paperwork efficiently back and forth from Taiwan (hello, FedEx?). At Christmas, I told you removing the tags would make the car undriveable. You insisted on doing it so you could save money and stop paying insurance. That is your fault, not mine. Then we argued about him wanting to drop off a document at the realtor’s office. I told him we could scan it. Nope, he insists on us driving it to the office. It’s on the way, he says with exasperation. Argh, just stab my eyes out, ok??

That’s the thing: if you are delegating something for me to do, I get ownership. You don’t get to tell me how to work. I was so fed up and pissed off.

In the evening, the second interested person got back to me about seeing the car. We met up at 7pm after he sat in rush hour LA-style traffic for three hours with screaming kids in the back. All during the drive up, he was calling me for the VIN number, then wanted pics of the tire treads, then wanted to know the maintenance work, plus Virginia’s requirements for the bill of sale since he was buying across state lines. Jesus dude, just get here and test drive it first! 

Bc of the traffic, our meeting time kept getting pushed back. So mom keeps asking me every fifteen minutes where the dude is and she gives me attitude like, does he want to buy the car or not. I’m like I told you he is stuck in traffic. I’m handling it!!! Ugh!!!! Fucking nagging Chinese parents. So dad and I meet him at the entrance of my neighborhood, since dad just will not shut up about the driving without tags thing. After about 20 minutes in the humid heat, the deal is done. Dad and I walk back home and what do you know, mom has closed the garage door on us. Top security once again. Jesus, you’re not Britney Spears. It’s a quiet residential neighborhood. Lock the door to the house, but you can leave the broken garage door open for 30 minutes. I cannot work under these conditions!!!

In other news, lunch with the in-laws went fine. Mom made some comment like maybe she could live in a facility like theirs when she’s old. Ok mom, you know that dad is planning to move back to Taiwan permanently, right? Have you two discussed all this? Why are you now talking about living in the US again??? WTF. I don’t even want to know anymore. Time to eject out of this madness for reals.

Well, the volcano erupted this morning. Day 5. I’d say my tolerance was clearly lower than usual: I haven’t been sleeping well since arriving last Saturday (the research is endless– last night was vehicle titling, bill of sale, nontagged status, etc.) and then there was some kind of bug infestation in my bedroom yesterday. There were multiple small black flying bugs, about the size of sweat bees, that had somehow gotten into my room, perhaps drawn by the light of my burning midnight oil. As soon as my head hit the pillow and I turned out the lights, a bug or two would get into my hair. Fucking A. I kept having to wake up and kill one more bug until I got every. last. one. By then, we were talking 3:30 am.

At 9:30, I heard a tapping outside my window. The riding mover pickup service was here, and like a lot of things around the house, the fucking doorbell doesn’t work anymore. And my parents also don’t use the front door at all, so everything is always locked up at max security. Even the key to unlock the deadbolt is tucked away in a drawer. So anytime someone is at the front door, it takes 45 seconds to dig up the key and unlock all the goddamn locks. By the time I made it to the front door, the guy had already gone back into his flatbed truck. Fortunately, I caught him in the driveway, and he loaded everything up. Done. So much more space now that the riding mower + sweeper + cutting blades + snow plow are taken!

When I went back into the house, dad told me to forget about selling grandpa’s car. Yes the fucking car that I had already cleaned out, posted to CL, and spent all this time researching its sale bc dad couldn’t find the gift form signed by my grandfather. I was furious. Why do you want to keep it? Their explanation? Oh, it’ll be nice to have a backup in case if the primary car (which is also super low mileage) goes kaput. And it’ll be good for mom to drive around locally.

Are you fucking kidding me? Mom can’t drive! She hasn’t driven in like 3-4 years: she’s going to cause an accident. Plus, you two are codependent and do everything together: you don’t need two cars. This is just going to be yet another thing (like the waiting room chairs and luggage trolley and fake flower) that’s going to sit around and collect dust. You’re better off paying someone $10/hr to drive your asses where you need to go. I was so goddamn mad. Yet again, you ask me to research all this shit and then you change your mind again. Then dad says he’ll figure it all out himself: he doesn’t need me to do it. Yeah, except that you DO need me to do it. You can’t even take/share pictures with your freaking phone! And there are just so many details, like does the private bill of sale need a notary? How will the buyer drive the car if the tags are removed? Part of the issue is that dad doesn’t want to drive the car the 1.5 miles from our house to the middle school for the test drive bc it doesn’t have tags. Jesus Christ. Not every goddamn thing has to be so by the fucking book. We’ll have all the for sale papers with us: as long as I’m not speeding or driving crazy, just politely explain to the cop (should we even get pulled over) that we are selling my grandfather’s car. He’s in a nursing home out of the country, so we turned in his tags. Now we are selling it. Anyway, back and forth and then dad says something to the effect that my temper is not professional: it’s a good thing I can just leave my job and not work, bc most people will have to put up with all kinds of annoyances and incompetence to support their families. WTF. It’s not my problem people CHOOSE to have kids and have to pay the consequences including staying at a crappy job to support a family. I didn’t make that same choice! Instead, I value freedom and flexibility more than having kids. And moreover, if we’re really talking about being professionals, then get the damn power of attorney papers signed so I can fucking do my job! Get out of my way and stop nagging me to death at every damn stage. Jesus Christ. It’s time to eject out of this insanity.

So now the deal is this: I’m meeting with a prospective buyer tonight. If the deal goes through, fine. If not, dad will want to formally put the title in his name and he’ll have to get the tags and re-register the vehicle. Then, at whatever point, he’ll have all the paperwork to sell it to whomever. Fine. You go handle that DMV tedium.

As for the freecycling and organizing, I stopped as of yesterday bc an estate sales lady came to the house. Unlike the auctioneer/consignment shop dude from Tuesday, this woman insists that everything can and will sell. Her fee is $3500 minimum or 30% of income from the estate sale. The final deliverable is a cleaned out house. My mind was totally blown when I met with her. I had to keep asking her to repeat: so let me get this straight: the process is that we take out and put into a storage pod/facility all our personal effects and only things we want to keep. Everything and anything that’s left over, will get re-arranged by your team and sold– like towels, old books, knick knacks, everything??? Yes!! When they (the estate sale vendors) leave, the house will be empty.

So I’m like, fuck yeah, that’s a deal, bc then I don’ have to go through every single plastic bag or drawer or whatever! And the estate salers will just pick it all clean. I’m in! Of course, parents are not so sure. They want to sift through it all themselves. And dad says he’ll lose money on the fee. WTF in God’s name are you talking about??? Bubbey says maybe it’s just all too much right now. Give them time, let them try and weed through it themselves and then when they get tired, you can call in the pros. Fine, whatever.

Meanwhile, dad hated how I set out stuff on the driveway for the Freecyclers. Someone was supposed to come back for the third batch of waiting room chairs, but this morning, I saw that dad brought them back into the garage. Which reminds me: seriously, my parents cannot have the garage door or any exterior door open/unlocked for two seconds. Like they think robbers are gonna come in while shit is exposed or unlocked! For example, the other day, I had to set a block to hold open the hinged screen door while I was moving all the furniture into the garage. I would set the doors all open, from the basement to the kitchen, to the garage. Without fail, every time I would enter the basement to grab something, by the time I came back up with the stuff, the doors were all shut and locked again. ARGH!!! And the garage doors? All closed again. I’m telling you, helping my parents is maddening beyond anything. For reals.

I mean, on one hand, it really was great news that the estate sales vendor thought our stuff would all sell. Just the day before, the auctioneer felt we couldn’t even GIVE that stuff away. But man, as soon as my parents got confirmation that their things were of quality and sell-able, they started giving me crap about the stuff I’d already given away, i.e. those damn waiting room chairs!! I dunno man. I am looking and feeling rough these days. I’m tired, boss! So damn tired!

Also yesterday: Bubbey put in his resignation at work. I knew this was coming: I would have liked to have been home but Bubbey quits on his own timeline. I agree, it’s been the wrong fit for him for many months and thankfully, we can both NOT work for a period. But still, yesterday just felt like so many things converging all at once. Honestly, I just need to get home to my Rover biz.

Throughout this trip, dad keeps telling me to slow down and not stress. He says stress damages the cells. Yeah, I know. Um, maybe you guys could stop making things so complicated and then I could actually chill the fuck out!?! How about that?

Clearly, things are coming to a head. We decided to do something “fun” today, so I drove us up north to Gettysburg, PA. We ate lunch at an old tavern built in 1776 and then we drove around. In usual fashion, they didn’t want to get out of the car, so we just followed the auto path (very limited feeling) through the Civil War sites and around Gettysburg College. On the way home, dad insisted that I drive past all his properties and check out all the new residential developments in their part of Frederick. I am so tired. Hopefully, the to do list is winding down. Tonight after the test drive, I’m hooking up the house webcams and getting dad to switch to the United Explorer credit card. Tomorrow, lunch with the inlaws and shipping out my Ebay sales. It’s time to go home, for reals.

Well, I kept my cool for as long as I could. Day 4 over here, and the parentals are irking the shit out of me. By some strange miracle, I have not had my usual deafening blowup, but fuck, I have def raised my voice and had to walk away several times. As you know, I’m juggling CL, Ebay, and Freecycle and then contacting vendors for various things. This morning, I called a second estate liquidator as well as the dumpster people. I sent the liquidator, who runs a consignment shop, auction house, and eBay store, some pictures. He called back and said the Asian era is long gone, like ten years too late. And they can’t move any of that or any of the Queen Anne Chippendale shit. Everyone now wants Ikea, modern style stuff. We’re a disposal Walmart society, he explains. So out of everything, maybe the maroon leather chairs and some rugs. Won’t even touch anything else. Well shit, now I’m really screwed. Tomorrow, I’m meeting with an estate sales lady, who runs 2-3 day onsite sales. We’ll see what she says. Dad also thinks his friends will want his shit. Whatever.

Meanwhile, I did manage to get rid of some items via Freecycle and this evening, someone is coming to measure the flatbed space needed for the 20+ y/o lawn mower. Yes, it has only been used a handful of times, so it’s in pretty good shape. That said though, it’s still more than 20 y/o with a dead battery and deflated front tires. Before our meeting today with the realtor at the townhouse, I started schlepping all my parents’ old medical office waiting room chairs (my dad had saved them when his office was remodeled back when I was a kid) from the basement to the garage, for a lady who wants them. Now these chairs are, again in decent shape, but the fabric on most is worn. And they are WAITING ROOM chairs. So I’m sweating up a storm doing it all alone bc 1) mom is weak 2) dad hurt his back on Saturday, bc he INSISTED on carrying my heavy-ass tote bag from the flight. I’m getting so irritated with his bullshit obstinance. I told you I had it and you insisted on taking the bag from me, and now look what happened! Totally out of commission. Anyway, dad starts telling me that he wants to save some chairs in case if his friend (his former nurse) wants it for her house. Ok, 1) this shit has been sitting in the garage gathering dust since I was in high school. Remember, I just turned fucking 40. 2) No person is going to want your waiting room chairs for their residence. WTF people? Get out of my way.

While all of this is going on, mom is in her perpetual state of confusion. I’m having a conversation about the townhouse, and she thinks I’m talking about the main house. I’m talking about the leather desk chair, and she thinks I’m talking about the waiting room chair. Never ever on the same fucking page. I’m talking about the Comcast cable modem, and she thinks I’m talking about her goddamn Laserdisc system. Jesus Christ, are you listening??? Then, my parents are obsessed with artificial flowers. Some have been sitting in the garage gathering dust and dirt, like a pair of yellow rose pots that are visibly dirty, like even from far away. I wanted to Freecycle or trash them, and mom kept giving me pushback. Then, there was a rusty suitcase trolley and while I was organizing my piles in the garage, I turned around and she dug that POS out of the pile for her to “use.” I mean, hello. Your suitcases have built-in wheels. WTF are you talking about? The last straw was this afternoon. I had taken a picture of a fake tabletop topiary, with a cracked base. Someone on Freeycle wanted it. I set it outside and then she was giving me all this lip. This thing has been in the basement seeing zero daylight and now suddenly, mom insists that she wants to use it in Taiwan. She wants to put it in a fucking backpack and take it as her carry on. Are you out of your mind? Holy shit, they are insane.

Then there’s all this ongoing extraneous commentary:
1. I’m driving them around. Dad says I drive too fast. We’re not in a hurry, so I need to slow down. This is a school zone, and I’m going to get a ticket.
2. Later, we need to get gas. The gas station is right there in the same goddamn parking lot, but no, Dad insists I go to the other one bc it’s 10 cents/gal cheaper. We get there and it’s like 5 cents cheaper, all of which amounts to $1 in savings.
3. I punch in an address on Google Maps and he wants me to ignore Google and use his directions.
4. The garbage service emptied his trash bins today, and I wanted to put the bin in the trunk and drive up the winding, hilly driveway, esp bc one of the bins has a busted wheel. No, he insists on walking it up the driveway bc the container is smelly and he doesn’t want to get his car dirty. Um, look at your house: it’s a hot mess. Thirty seconds in your trunk will be fine.

The recurring theme here? Why must you insist on making every damn thing so fucking complicated and difficult??? Keep it up, and the volcano is going to blow real soon!!

Hello from Maryland! Gosh, it feels like I’ve been away for quite a while but shit, only three days have passed!! First, I’m happy to report that my inaugural flight on Southwest’s OAK-BWI route was a breeze, which means there may be many more to come (I need the points if I’m still aiming for the Companion Pass!). I had deliberately taken the 6:20 am flight to arrive at a decent daytime hour for my parents, but shit, I got no sleep the night before: I had Bubs up really late talking about my trip and my relationship with my parents. Yeah, I was kinda bugging about it. But we had a good conversation and in the end, both OAK and BWI were easy to navigate. In the future, I need to stop getting to the damn airport so early. You see, I have TSA Pre, so getting from curb to gate is always under 20 minutes, but bc I’m a planning freak, I always convince myself to get to the airport 90 minutes early just in case… you know, new airport, holiday traffic, whatever. I know, overkill. I’m making adjustments next time for sure. Other observations from the flight? The OAK crowd is definitely different from the SJC crowd. A lot more sports gear and tats, let’s just say.

Maryland has been wet!! We’re getting rain all week long! Everything is super green and lush. My dad’s basement dehumidifier now fills up and requires emptying every. damn. day! Totally the opposite of California. Work wise, I def hit the ground running on Day 1. First things first: tech support. Holy crap, I’ve never made so many damn calls to Comcast. All the issues finally got resolved tonight. Tomorrow I’m going to try and hook up my mom’s karaoke Laserdisc system to the HDTV… After tech support, I hustled to take pics of their nicer furniture and decor… I figure, if anything, it’s always good to have photos, regardless of whether or not we’ll ultimately end up using the estate sales person I’m meeting on Wednesday. Until then, I’ve gone ahead and created Google albums (I’d taken a break from Google and was using Flickr for the last several years, but I have to say, Google Photos offers a nice workflow, esp for my busy operations on Freecycle, Craigslist, and Ebay!). If you’re curious, here’s stuff that I expect to go up for sale (I might ship select pieces back to California though), and here are free items that I’m clearing out to make more room for staging/organizing stuff indoors.

Do you remember when my cousins visited from Taiwan, and they could not stop raving to everyone in Taiwan about how nice my little Houseboat was? And my mom, was all like, “What? What did Vicky do? Her house isn’t that nice! What’s so nice about it? What am I missing?” At the time, I was all pissed like she was being a love withholder or something. But now that I am taking inventory of their stuff, I am realizing there is a huge difference in quality and durability. I mean, their style isn’t necessarily my style, but shit man, the difference in craftsmanship is significant. And credit where credit is due: they really did do a great job assembling pieces together in a cohesive way. So, kudos to them, and I stand corrected.

On Day 2, I started digitizing some of dad’s important files. Dude is super organized and has impressive homemade spreadsheets tracking a gabillion metrics, but still, his files are stored all over the damn place. Going over where shit was and the status of each project took an entire evening, and he and I were up past 2 am discussing all these details. Bubbey is calling us the Mogul Mafia now. For reals. My dad is intense, I tell you.

Today was the holiday. I slept in late bc after our 2 am jam session, I couldn’t sleep and I was up until 5 am. But once I got up and going, I decided we needed a large staging area for various piles: trash, recyclables/ewaste, donations, free cycle, and for sale. I posted some stuff on CL, but logistics-wise, instead of having strangers enter deep into the bowels of the house, I think it’s better to just put the items in a bay in the garage and have people come look there. All afternoon, we were uncovering bags within bags within bags in the garage. Holy fuck, I come from an entire line of pedigreed packrats!!! Saved plastic bags, unused restaurant napkins, plastic utensils, takeout containers, etc. Yes, now you see where I get those proclivities!! I started feeling overwhelmed and began sweating my brains out and sneezing up a storm, shuffling around in all the muck. Then, I moved my grandfather’s car out of the garage to take pictures and holy fuck, that thing was stuffed with garbage too, including like five canes and six umbrellas and a whole load of US and Taiwan flags (WTF??)! I started getting so pissed about all the hoarding, so I just threw everything out of the car and onto the driveway. And then it started to rain. Yeah, it was not a good scene. But in the end, I got ‘er done. Toyota Corolla for sale, bitches. Tonight, I reformated two of dad’s old laptops and posted those for sale on Ebay. I need to pad my Ebay stats. 🙂 Actually, if I reapply for the Southwest business card, I need to beef up business for my business, know what I mean? Haha, always hustling.

On tap for tomorrow: I’m meeting the realtor to talk about the townhouse reno and then he’s touring the family home to share his insights on that potential sale. I’ve also got to call a bunch of vendors regarding dumpster rental, moving services, ewaste pickup, and donation pickups. In the afternoon, a bunch of people are coming to pick up free items: the 20+ year old riding mower, two twin beds, an old stereo, etc. I need to start seeing faster progress; otherwise, I’ll have another “throw everything out of the car” meltdown.