Pronounced Ex-Her-Bee-Us

There has to be a word stronger than dislike, sweeter than hate, more severe than annoying, while still not meaning totally evil. But where is it? Xherbius. From now on xherbius is just that word. I xherbius (greatly) Barbara.

Let me explain.

I am a nanny (currently) and the (fabulous) family I live with only has one downside - Barbara. She's a 55-year-old woman with bad hair, a face that looks like it had some bad cosmetic surgery and tacky jackets that she wears with tank tops sans-bra, tight pants and seriously nasty heels (we're talking ones with rubberband straps, gold lame with print and some with clear heels) . A woman whose family doesn't even like her enough to keep her. Overly harsh, I know. But ponder this: her three sons, daughter, her parents, her three brothers, and her sister all live in the area. And none of them will take her in. She's "tried it before and we just can't live together." When your family can't live with you, then why would you think anyone else could?

When I moved in in August I was told that Babs would be moving out by October and I would move into the room she's using on the bottom floor of the three-story house away from everyone else. There would be much more privacy, nicer bathroom, an office I could use to write and the room's bigger. I just had to wait until October when my boss, friends with Barbie, thought she would be moving out. Told her to move out by. But the date passed and here it is January and Barb is still living downstairs.

But she's not just living here for her $700 a month. Sure free water, free electric, free heat, free ac, free premium cable come with the price she pays. But she also takes free phone service (three of four lines she uses for her office!), free internet, free food, free laundry facilities complete with detergent, and free booze - all of which she's been asked not to do.

She hovers over us all - makes sure that I remember all I have to do (especially when I don't need reminding) and squeezes herself into any private time my boss might wish to spend with her boyfriend. She leaves her dirty spoons on the just cleaned counter, her old coffee in the microwave and used wine glasses beside the sink for days. She has been known to come into the my boss's bedroom, stand over her bed, wake her up and talk to her. She brings over her young grandchildren to spend the night and then tries to get the boy I take care of to play with them so she doesn't have to bother. She leaves candles lit and falls asleep. She turns on the tv, the light, the oven and never turns them off. She never leaves the house so I can get any work downstairs done. She leaves dirty footprints over just mopped floors. She eats the house food. She eats my food. She will wait until she hears coming down from upstairs, sprint up to the main level, turn on the tv and watch it just so I can't do the same. She drinks three to four glasses of wine every night until she looks and sounds like WC Fields.

And no matter how many times my boss tells her she needs to buy a house and move out, she still here. It's like that little cartoon from the 80s - the man buys a cat, the cat fucks up everything, he tries to kill it, but "the cat came back the very next day, the cat came back, he thought it was a goner, but the cat came back the very next day, he just couldn't stay away."

Of course things are made more complicated because they are kind of friends. No one wants to evict someone who's their friend. and the kid loves her, so that makes the situation even more awkward.

I don't know that I can take her being here much longer. she's gotten to be even more annoying. I made a phone call from the house line, she hovered around for the entire convo and only left after it was over.

Not to mention the morning I spent bailing her out of jail. Oh yes! That's right! Bail her out of jail. My boss was out of town on business when Barbara called before seven asking me to "just pick her up from jail" after the kid got to school. I went to the jail, but they wouldn't let her out because she hadn't made bail. So I waited longer to talk to her about the situation. Never in my life had I ever had to pick someone up from jail, let alone bail them out. The only knowledge I have about that part of the justice system are things I have seen on "Homicide," "Law and Order," "Night Court," and those scenes from movies where parents bail out their children after they've done something stupid. So I wait for a call on the pay phone inside the jail's waiting room from this woman. After about an hour waiting and asking asinine questions about bail bonds to the policewoman at the front desk, I get a call from Barbara telling me she needs to be downtown for a meeting in fifteen minutes. No thanks for showing up. Nothing. So I drive across the street to the nearest bail bonds office with a bright open sign in the window. It's locked up, so I climb back into my cold car and call the number on the side of the building. I leave a message and wait for the bondsman to call me back "momentarily." I wait over 30 minutes, call and leave another message with the same response. After yet another 30 minutes, I call again and return to the house to wait for his call just in case Barbara tries to call again. After I get there I try to do some work, but alas am quickly interrupted by a phone call from one of her friends. Who was in her shower while Babs calls three times and wants to know what she should do. I explain the situation to her and she says she'll call the bondsman and then call me back. If she doesn't get the guy, she'll call and let me know so I can call another bondsman. It was 11:30 by this time. Over three hours of this crap. At one, I call her friend back who says she didn't hear from the bondsman (forgot to call, did we?) and in the middle of that call who phones in but Babs. I flash over and she near yells at me for still being in jail. I explain. The rest of the story short, her friend goes to meet with the bondsman because I wasn't eligible to do so, she gets out of jail, and then I go with them to drive her and her car home - of course she doesn't make it home before calling a second time telling my boss (home by that time) that I had not bailed her out of jail and she was still stuck there. And that was that. No gas money for all the driving around I did. No thanks. But she did, however, mention about a million times how disagreeable the police were being with her. Maybe that was because they're not usually nice to drunk drivers. Just a guess.

Will she ever shut-up? Will she ever mind her own business? Will she ever say thank you? Will she ever leave? No one can answer these questions. I can only pray that when he rent goes up to $1200 at the beginning of March she'll leave. If not, I can take pleasure in the fact that if she's not out by May, she'll be evicted. And at least if she's here that long, I'll be able to see all of her hideous shoes out by the side of the road for pickup.