On petty arguments…

Several fateful days ago, my dear sister finally had a row worthy of a Mexican soap opera with none other than our two lovely stepsisters. The drama unfolds, as only the three girls had been left in Kuala Lumpur, close to home as other family members happen to be out of town, all at the relatively same time.

It began with a harmless BBQ dinner party, hosted by the two evil lovely (as stated above) stepsisters who insists on drinking beer. Now, being a relatively unconservative person myself, I see no reason why this should be an issue if all relevant parties are comfortable with the arrangement. My sister however, was not.

She insisted that they take their drinking off the premises, as it was done without the consent of our parents. Mind you, these girls we’re talking about here, are already in their mid-thirties, with homes of their own. Why they choose to drink over at our parent’s house, is beyond comprehension.

Matters soon escalated, as the communication broke down between warring parties, and soon enough, the previously indisposed parents were called in to resolve the dispute.

Instead, it became an even bigger fiasco. Stepmum and Dad are now screaming and screeching at each other, with tearful children on the phone, still assigning blame left right and center.

Stepmum leaves for home, as soon as humanly possible. Now, this itself is miraculous, as she neither drives or has much acumen of any sort. That she made it back in one piece, relatively quickly was a feat. She then proceeded to skewer my sister, saying she was the party to blame to this whole mess, and much more.

Dad now says, “You better go get that house we were talking about. I think its time for your sister to move out.”

With this two little sentences, I realize I’m four steps away from my dream house. With the help of Dad, I may be able to purchase something a little bit bigger, with better location, than had I been able to do had the property purchase been entirely my own.

I feel gleeful and sad at the same time, that at the cost of others’ misfortunes and woes, I am achieving my dream of living in a place I can call my own. In between thoughts of the amount of crazy work I need to get done to make it habitable by June, not including the time I will spend househunting, I feel that I should give more thought to the person who made it all possible, and I wonder if he will be as homeless (won’t be homeless, all is fine and dandy now) as my sister when he gets back to KL in a week’s time. Stepmum has currently put their house on sale, presumably making her preparations for an exit out of our lives for good (can’t tell what she’s preparing for, after all I’m not part of her inner circle).

To Dad, thank you from the bottom of my heart, for finally and the first time ever, putting us, your children first, before the woman you call your wife, and her parasitic children (not putting us first, but as usual, last in the long line leading to you) helping us purchase our home.

To my sister, thank you for finally showing that you too, are human and have limits. We are always here for you… Blood, after all, is thicker than water…

To my significant other, and my dear brother, thank you, for supporting us even when it might not make sense, and for your help when we are faced with crazy deadlines and movers and cleaning and unexpected expenses, as we finally move one last time…

Now, where did you say that nice house was?

Looking forward to rent-free living – Jasmine.

ps – Edits made to reflect that I’m truly do not mean to hurt anyone, as this is my blog, where only my thoughts count, and no one else’s… It is after all, the only place and space where I am not contradicted, nor am I ever wrong, nor am I required to kowtow to anyone…

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