The Basement Dwellers

There are people living in my basement. Three, fully functioning, grown people are living in my basement. They use my hot water. They use my electricity. They use my toilet paper! They take up my metalsmithing studio, and litter my backyard with cigarette butts. They leave hair in my shower drain, and clothes in my washer. They have been there for two months, and show no signs of leaving.

How, may you ask, did I end up in this predicament? My super generous husband.

Several months ago, Generous Husband casually asked one night, if it would be all right if his good friend Z could stay with us for a wee bit if he needed to. When I asked why he would need to, Generous Husband told me Z was having difficulties with his apartment, and may need to leave abruptly, before he could find another apartment. Generous Husband said this was an unlikely possibility, but he wanted to ask anyways. I told him I thought this would be fine, as I knew Z, and thought he would be a fine house guest.

Weeks went by, and no mention of Z was made again, and it all but faded from my mind. The, out of the blue, GH announced that Z and his brother, E, would be coming over to discuss staying with us. It was so sudden, my brain barely had time to register- brother? Oh yes, said GH, don't you remember I said Z's brother would be staying here too? Flabbergasted, I insisted that was a detail I would have been sure to remember.

So, put on the spot, I opened the door to find Z, Z's brother E - and E's girlfriend! E's girlfriend??? Yes, even my darling GH was taken aback by that addition. E's girlfriend, V, assured us that she wouldn't be staying with us, only visiting once in a while. I had my doubts about "once in a while", but bit my tongue, oh so generously.

The next day, despite my hysterical misgivings the night before, Z and E moved into our basement. It was at this time that I discovered Z and V didn't have jobs, only E. It was at this time that my hysterical misgivings became a full blown aneurysm.


This was nearly two months ago. In this time, GH and I have fought more than in our entire marriage combined. I beg GH to tell the basement dwellers to get the hell out; GH tells me I'm overreacting, that they haven't been here that long, We argue over each other's definitions of "not that long". While we argue, somehow V has migrated into our basement as well, holing up with the other two.


In this time, they haven't given us a dime, bought a roll of toilet paper, or even cleaned up after themselves without a good amount of snarking on my end. GH is still baffled as to why I'm upset. I tell him it's simple math: 5 adults + 2 kids + 1 bathroom +no money = a neurotic, stressed out, Sarcasta-Mom!

Z assures me that by September 7th they'll have enough money to start really looking for a place. Looking????!!!!! In the meantime, my parents refuse to visit, as their guest room is occupied. I spend my days choking on bile of pure rage, desperately avoiding fights with GH the best I can. I still slip. I still tell GH that he's making my life miserable by refusing to help me oust the freeloaders in the basement.

I think it's time to take up drinking. Unfortunately, I only have enough money to cover toilet paper.