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So my sister has been living with us for about a month now, I believe, or a little bit over that. They are homeless because they land-lord wanted his brother to live in the house they were staying at. A month later, they find out that he’s renting it out again. Gay. So anyways, they haven’t been able to get jobs with hours because this is phoenix. I understand that. But one of the main issues was grocery money, at least for me. At first while they had some money we were taking turns buying groceries. Now that Javier is working every day, and besides not getting paid for doing his twirling jobs, he has been bringing in money. 230 went to storage, and so far 90 has gone to groceries. Blah blah blah. They were supposed to get 150 from their grandma, but that hasn’t come in yet either. Big surprise. Anyways.
With the grocery thing, I roughly calculated that we paid anywhere from 235-300 dollars worth of groceries just for them since they’ve been here. The kids trash the bedrooms, they ate all the time during the summer, and they were loud and obnoxious. We were lucky because rent was only 200 this month. And I have been working here and there, and nitoa finally got a minimum part time job at her school. Good for us. Unfortunately, chaos is leaking. Javier was seen with me getting a fax, and he was seen by the landlady walking the dog. So now lady is supposed to be gone, and if we get caught with her that’s 100 dollars down the drain. Plus, the lady next door asked how many kids we have in here. Javier said he’d get emergency funds for 500 to get out of here by Sunday, but I really doubt it.
Actually, back to the grocery thing yet again, because I keep getting side-tracked. They got 90 dollars worth of groceries. But most of it was stuff for the kids or stuff we didn’t really like: bologna, five minute soup, hot dogs… I mean, the only thing we like is the milk, koolaid packets, ranch, and wheat bread. I can’t think of anything else that was bought for us. Out of 90 dollars, no less. I like the waffles, but that’s for the kids too. Wtf? And even if I try to talk to wendy about it, it doesn’t matter because “she gave me life”. Even though she’s my sister, and it’s our house. And I’m tired of her complaining about the cat. And I don’t like doing a million dishes because we don’t do most of them.
We’re almost at the end of our sanity.
God help us.
Or whoever gets here first.

I feel like I'm in a horror survival movie. wendy is the beast in the shadows you never see, but always know its there. is it behind me? or behind you?