Emotional Meltdown on a Tuesday Morning

    I stayed behind today while Chad went back to our old house for the walk thru and the movers. Apparently, light bulb Brian really is that damn cheap. Chad called me after the inspection was over. We painted the landing/stairwell/downstairs poop bathroom. They have been thru the house several times and seemed happy with it. They were not bothered by the painting that we did. Said to leave it. Today, they changed their tune. With 2 days to go. They wanted to charge us 400 GBP to paint it back. We asked them about 30 times if they wanted us to repaint it before we moved out. The answer was always no. The reason: we want to screw you out of money because we are old, cheap, and shitty. They were also outraged about having dogs upstairs. They gave us written permission to have the dogs. Never specified where we could or couldn't have them. When I called them to find out more about all this new information at one point they said they wanted us to acknowledge it and contribute towards the fixing of the problem. Acknowledge my fist in your old british face ya old wierdo. Now, with like a day left to go, we have to hurry and paint everything back.  The phone conversation, all the information that Chad told me, the pregnancy all melted together for an epic meltdown. I cried. On the phone. With two old people. That are English and don't particularly like emotions. I cried hard.

   The phone conversation went something like this:

(this may be a BIT of an exaggeration)
Me: Hello Brian, I am calling because I feel sick about all the information I just found out. I am saddened to find out that you stretched the truth about the painting issues, and that you had problems with our dogs being upstairs.
Brian: Ummm yes I am old and wierdly British. I make things up as I go because I am crazier than a box of hammers in July. I am so blind, even though you pointed out those walls, I never really noticed it because I was probably having a small stroke or peeing in my pants.
Me: You never specified that dogs couldn't be upstairs and getting all upset about that comes as a surprise and a shock.
Brian: Umm yes there, I just peed in my pants. What were you saying?
Me: Why did you wait to tell the housing people about the paint and not just tell us to take care of it?
Brian: Ummm yes, I have a pet pigeon (that isn't allowed upstairs) and I still eat semi solid foods.
Me: I want to leave this situation with good feelings and not bad ones.
Brian: Ummm yes, sometimes I wear a monocle, not because I need it, but because it makes me look like the Monopoly guy.

   We are staying at Aaron's house, and I took a shower here this morning. It seriously made me think, wtf were we doing paying nearly $2,000 a month for a house with a shower that's so small you can't even turn around in the shower booth? Everything about that house sucks. Take our 80 GBP fine and go fuck yourselves. (sorry for the bad language)