Both middle-aged sons are in transition this week. All I know for sure about their transitions is that both have called asking to borrow the truck and to store "a few things" in our vast, open spaces. No pleasantries attached. Just calling the storage rental unit office. . . I doesn't even wanna be in the Landlord business. Not for money or love. I am certainly not interested in letting the conversation getting to what else they might find us useful for. I surely ain't feeling the love. I am real tired of paying for the privilege.

We told eldest son, "No" last week. After an initial rage for the, "No," he managed to work out other arrangements and he, hubs and I even enjoyed some peaceful exchanges through it all. I am not rich/curious enough to ask questions about his transition. Asking questions about middle-aged affairs tends to end up with huge resource drains. The pleasant, non-demanding conversation felt like good progress in the relationship.

This morning youngest son put in his request to store the "few things" that would bring an abrupt halt to the master bathroom project we finally managed to make some headway on after hubs and I condensed the other "few things" into 2/3 of the suite. I have no doubt, whatsoever that the "few things" they want to drop off will consume every inch of the work space we cleared. At least.

At last communication with the youngest son and his family, I was still, "The Monster-in-Law." Even contemplating the jump from Monster-in-Law to charity Storage Unit Landlord sent me off the deep end. Hubs was not feeling any toowise or loving over the chain of events, either, but he agreed to take the ball and to keep me updated. In hubs I trust?

I am clueless how it will evolve. Just venting the methane. . . Thank you for the safe place to vent.