So yesterday was Thanksgiving, which means that we are now in the middle of the holiday season. Our Thanksgiving was pretty low key. I vacuumed the house while Bill made a cherry cheese pie. Then I made macaroni and cheese, mainly because Bill made me want it. Finally, Bill made a chicken pot pie. We went with the chicken pot pie because of Bill’s dental trauma. He just had an implant installed and is healing, complete with stitches.
We had part of a chicken that needed to be eaten, so I suggested that he make a chicken pot pie. So he did, and it turned out great. I was especially happy about the pastry, which was perfect– flaky and tasty. The pie was less successful, because he didn’t use US products with his US recipe. He didn’t have cherry pie filling or American condensed milk, which is sweetened.
Anyway, it wasn’t the fanciest meal… and we didn’t even break out the good china for it. But it was tasty and filling, and there was no fighting or weirdness. We had good music and good company. So Thanksgiving was a success, in my book.
While we were eating, I heard some Christmas music. For once, I didn’t change the song, because– hey– it’s holiday time. And because today is Black Friday, I started shopping for gifts. Actually, today I bought cheese and chocolate, as well as a few essentials for the house and a couple of gifts for Bill. Naturally, that activity made USAA’s fraud detection bots go nuts.
They sent me a message on my USAA app, but when I tried to verify my identity, the app decided I was taking too long. Then I got an error message. So I had to call USAA to get them to unblock my card, and I had to do that on my cell phone, using their local number. I was supposed to call them collect, but I don’t even remember how to do that. I haven’t made a collect call in decades.
I spent several minutes on the phone with one lady, but since she was dealing with credit cards, and the charges in question were on my debit card, she had to send me to another operator… a heavily accented fellow who sounded pretty bored with his work. Gone are the days when I’d call USAA and they’d address me by name and thank me for my many years of membership. USAA really sucks now, but they are among the few banks that will allow American expats on SOFA status to have an account while living abroad. Crazy that they didn’t seem to have a problem with charges from Armenia, but I do some transactions on Black Friday, and their damned bots go nuts.
In any case, the issue is sorted, and my cheese and chocolate and other stuff is successfully ordered. But one other issue came up. I turned on my VPN so I could navigate to a site that kept giving me the geo block. I forgot to turn off the VPN before I signed into my email account, so I got an alert for that, too. And in the process of checking that, I saw a bunch of people or bots or whatever, from around the world, trying to log into my email account. Fucking scammers. They need to get a real job.
I never knew what Black Friday was, even though my parents were retailers who depended on the Christmas season, until I worked in retail. I had a boss who got upset with me because I wanted to go home to my family’s homestead for Thanksgiving. I seem to remember having to race back to Williamsburg, Virginia from Natural Bridge on Saturday to go to work. I’m glad I’m not in that world anymore.
I completed another post for my Armenia series on the travel blog. I may do another later today, if I feel up to it. Or maybe I’ll just do another musical number. Or maybe I’ll take a nap and watch YouTube. I don’t know. I sure am not as physically active this week, as I was last week! That’s for damned sure.
I am shocked that it’s time for the holidays, though… 2023 has flown by. Maybe 2024 will bring a new dog into our lives. I am definitely ready for one. Hopefully, the weather will improve. There’s a wine stand tonight, but it’s cold and rainy outside. I have a feeling we’d rather stay home and drink wine in front of the fire.
As I wrote on my travel blog yesterday, Bill decided that we needed a nice lunch after last week’s home improvement trauma. Last year, at the tail end of the COVID-19 lockdowns, we discovered a restaurant called Landhaus Diedert. We have now been there three times. Every time I’ve left there after a Sunday lunch, I’ve felt very contented. It’s a beautiful restaurant with gorgeous, delicious food, wonderful wines, and friendly, competent, kind service.
Yesterday, we sat outside in the restaurant’s Biergarten for the first time. We had perfect weather– sunny skies, with a gentle breeze, maybe about 74 degrees Fahrenheit. Our table was under a canopy of mature trees, where everyone was peacefully and quietly enjoying lunch. Now THAT was the life…
I do love living in Germany, even though being here has its inconveniences. Like, for example, this morning, I tried to access one of my online bank accounts, which now has two factor authentication. Although I called the bank and gave them my German phone number, and they confirmed that it worked, there must have been a system update. Now, my number has the wrong country code, so I can’t get their stupid authentication texts, nor will they email them to me. Their system won’t let me update the information online, so I’m going to have to call them later, once there are people at work. That’s one persistent problem with living here.
Another is not being very good at speaking German, which means we have to deal with sexist, inconsiderate assholes like the guys who temporarily took up residence in my house last week. I suppose I could have spoken to them in English and let my non-verbal language do the talking. They made it clear they weren’t interested in listening to me, though. While I know it’s pointless to be angry about this, the truth is, I’m still fuming. I hope karma catches up to those two motherfuckers very soon.
And I do miss some people from my past, too… like my mom and my sisters. We’ve missed a lot of family events, although maybe it’s better than we didn’t go to those.
Still, I couldn’t help but reflect yesterday on just how lovely our afternoon was. We had good food, good wine, and good company. It was just a really nice day, and an effective reminder as to why we prefer life in Europe. Too bad Bill has to go away again this upcoming weekend. It’s another week of TDY in Bavaria. But, it looks like he’ll be temporarily changing duties soon, which will mean no TDY travel for awhile.
I was wearing my favorite colors yesterday, which went pretty well with my sun and age bleached hair and blue eyes. 😀 I may look like an old hag when I’m at home, but I can clean up alright when I put on some makeup. I’m definitely a fan of blue. I felt pretty yesterday, in spite of being old and fat.
It’s days like yesterday that give me hope and make me want to stick around. And it’s photos like the one below that remind me of how much I disliked living in Texas.
Of course… in Europe, we do have our share of jerks, too. But at least, by and large, they aren’t armed. I read a very sad story a couple of days ago about a man whose wife of 18 months was shot and killed in a road rage accident. Someone cut the man off, so he flipped off the driver with his middle finger. Next thing he knew, his wife had been shot and killed. Naturally, it happened in Texas ( in the Dallas Fort-Worth area).
Here in Germany, flipping people off, especially in traffic, is illegal and can result in a large fine if you get caught doing it (especially if you do it to cops). And again… a lot fewer guns here, too… and the weather is generally not so horrible in the summer as it is in Texas.
So… I guess I’ll simmer down, although Bill still plans to have a talk with our landlord, if only to let him know that next time there’s a big job involving craftsmen, he’ll probably work from home. He’s probably a much better man than I deserve.
I think I’ll close this post and play my guitar. Maybe later, if it’s not too hot and I’m feeling cheeky, maybe I’ll record a new song. I couldn’t do any last week. Cheerio!
The featured photo is of the beautiful trees at Landhaus Diedert. Their Biergarten is just lovely, especially on temperate July days.
I got into a brief discussion yesterday with people from my hometown of Gloucester, Virginia. One of my high school classmates posted a picture of what she’d spent at the gas pump. If I recall correctly, it was about $125 or so… and that certainly is a mind blowing figure. While I didn’t expressly state it, I was initially sympathetic. I left the first comment on her photo, which was that [gas prices] have been like that in Europe for years. In fact, they’re even higher here than they are in the United States. I had originally meant the comment to be matter-of-fact, but it kind of blew up a bit.
Last time I checked, which I will admit wasn’t super recently, gas in Germany was about 2 euros per liter. There are 3.785 liters in a gallon. A quick Googling tells me that gas prices near where I live are still at about 2 euros per liter, thereabouts. My trusty calculator tells me that a gallon of gas near me would cost about 7.57 euros. One euro is currently equivalent to $1.05, so that means a gallon of gas is about $7.96. If you’re driving a honkin’ big truck that holds 20 gallons of gas, it’s going to cost you about $160 to fill up in Germany. But that’s not unusual here. I remember it being very expensive here when we lived here years ago, although it wasn’t that expensive. I think it was the dollar equivalent of about $2.65 per gallon back around 2007 or so, which was still expensive for us spoiled Americans.
A few hours later, a woman from Gloucester whom I’ve never met, left me kind of a snarky comment about how everybody in Europe lives in houses that are the size of a U.S. house’s kitchen. Then she went on a rant about how much Europeans pay in taxes (she claimed 58%) and compared them to socialists. She finished her comment with an orange angry emoji… to which I laugh reacted, because her comment was so full of misconceptions and falsehoods that I was kind of flabbergasted.
I added another comment. I wrote “I live in Germany, and I assure you that my house is bigger than your kitchen.” Indeed, the home we live in now is on three levels, has three bathrooms, three bedrooms, a large, finished basement with a granny apartment, and a fenced in backyard. There are also two large balconies. The one thing this house doesn’t have, that I wish it did have, is closet space. Most German houses don’t have closets. Our first German house was an exception to that trend. It was built by a man who had worked for IBM and was familiar with US houses.
At that point, another person from Gloucester, but living in Arkansas, left a lengthy, but basically polite comment, explaining that she knew Germans had nice homes, but they don’t have to drive much, because of the public transportation available here. She wrote me a tale of woe about life in rural America, and how the high gas prices are a real hardship. She wrote her comment as if she thought I was from Germany, which struck me as funny.
While it’s true that there’s a lot of public transportation here, not everyone uses it, nor is it necessarily convenient for everyone to use in every area. If the usual traffic on Autobahn 3, which is very near my house, is any indication of how many Europeans are driving, I’d say that lady is a little out of touch with how things are over here in Germany.
I do understand what life in rural America is like. I lived there myself for many years. So I commented, “I’m an American, so I know how it works,” adding a winky smiley. I know… that’s a little snarky, but I have to admit I was a little irritated that this person felt she needed to explain life in the United States to me. Especially since I never indicated that I didn’t have any empathy for Americans having to pay a lot for gas. My initial comment was simply that gas prices have been high in Europe for years, not that my friend needed to “get over it”. But after reading a couple of comments from obvious conservatives who blame Joe Biden for the price of gas, I was starting to feel like my countrymen were whining a bit and could use a perspective adjustment.
Then the first lady came back, still seemingly a little pissy, writing that she doesn’t want to spend $10 a gallon on gas, and she thinks taxes are too high in Europe. I was still left with the impression that she had no idea about what she was writing. So I responded with something along the lines of, “Okay, but you’ve made some comments about life in Europe that are not grounded in reality. Germans do pay a lot of taxes, but they get a lot for the money they pay. Most of the Germans I’ve known live perfectly nice lifestyles. Yes, gas is expensive here, but other things are much less expensive, like healthcare, education, and food. And Germany also isn’t a socialist country.”
I also added that here, one doesn’t have to go to college to have a hope of getting a “good” job. In fairness, people don’t necessarily have to go to college in the United States to get a good job, either, as long as they have a useful talent or skill. However, here, the emphasis is on people being able to find work so they can pay their bills. Young people don’t get saddled with humongous loans that will take the rest of their lives to pay off, and workers have rights. In the USA, it can be very difficult to find work that pays enough, even if one went to college, or even graduate school. And vacation leave is pretty stingy in a lot of jobs. You’re lucky if you get two weeks, unpaid.
I didn’t add that in Germany, new parents get generous paid leave. In fact, they also get generous guaranteed vacation time every year, which allows people the chance to rest, and to recover when they get sick or injured. We pay for energy by the year, and it’s less than we’d spend in the United States. We pay for heating oil every year, so we don’t have to worry about getting an unexpectedly high bill every month. Bill and I don’t pay German taxes for most things, because we have SOFA status. We pay US taxes, which are admittedly lower than German taxes are. But the United States makes every citizen file a tax return and pay taxes, no matter where in the world they are living. Most other countries don’t do that. Granted, if one makes under a certain salary threshold, there is a US tax exemption. Whatever one makes over that figure is taxed.
Then the second woman wrote that she didn’t check my passport before assuming I was German, and apologized. It seemed like a snarky comment, but I chose not to respond in a snarky way. I wrote that I grew up in Gloucester, so I know the pain of commuting long distances in the United States. I also know that a lot of people, some of whom have never lived anywhere but Gloucester, and many of whom have never so much as visited another country, assume that the United States is the best country on Earth. I’m here to tell them that it ain’t necessarily so. Even if they did think Gloucester was the best place ever to live, after having experienced living in many other places, that wouldn’t be every person’s opinion. As my Italian friend Vittorio would say, “Tastes differ.”
At this point in my life, I’ve now lived in several countries. No place was ever perfect, but the other countries I lived in had their pluses and minuses. Even Armenia, which was really developing when I lived there in the 90s, had some aspects of life that I later missed. The beautiful produce at the shukas comes to mind… as well as the fascinating churches, amazing art and music, and interesting cultural traditions. It was also a very CHEAP place to live… much cheaper than the USA or Germany is. I was definitely ready to leave Armenia at the end of my Peace Corps service, but that was mostly because of a situation I was dealing with at the time that could have happened anywhere. I also missed Armenia when I got back to good old Gloucester, where I was stuck living for two years post Peace Corps.
Anyway, when I left my original comment about how expensive gas is, it was to the original poster. It was neither a positive nor a negative comment. I just wrote that gas prices have been high in Europe for years. The other people were the ones who made it negative, and then added a bunch of hooey about life in Germany… something about which they clearly know very little, or next to nothing. I probably should have just rolled my eyes and moved on… people are going to complain, and some will continue to blame the president for something he can’t, and doesn’t, control.
Personally, I would rather pay higher gas costs and know that if I get sick and need to go to a hospital, I won’t go bankrupt. Of course, we could probably use the military hospital in Germany, but I wouldn’t conclude that’s ideal, except that we would be more likely to get decent pain relief. One of Bill’s co-workers, who is American and a retiree, sought care at Landstuhl for his wife, who had colon cancer. The military hospital couldn’t accommodate them in a timely manner, so they called up the local hospital. They got a same day appointment. She went in, and over about a year’s time, they treated her for the cancer. She’s now in remission. When all was said and done, the whole thing cost about $13,000, which was entirely paid for by her health insurance. Try doing that in a US hospital, even with insurance.
The United States truly does have some great things going for it. I do love my country, and I even miss it sometimes. But there’s PLENTY of room for improvement in the United States. And to be honest, high gas prices are not what I would be focusing on right now, when children can’t even go to school without being afraid for their lives. Yes, it sucks to pay a lot for gas, but I’m afraid the days of cheap gas are coming to an end for many people. It’s not just because of the political situation in the United States; this is a global issue. Maybe instead of whining about high gas prices, American people might invest in more fuel efficient vehicles… or push for better and more extensive modes of public transportation. There’s a high price to be paid for living out in bum fucked Egypt, where there is no bus or train system.
But most of all, I wish ignorant, all-knowing people in the United States would stop trying to tell me how life is where I am actually living. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, and it really drives home why so many non-Americans think so many Americans are so insufferable and arrogant. As an American, I didn’t see it so clearly when I lived in the US, but I can see it plain as day now… and folks, as the “orange hero”, Donald Trump, would say– it’s not a good look.
I am reposting this piece I wrote for my original Blogspot version of this blog. At the time, we still lived near Stuttgart. We have since left there, and moved to Wiesbaden, where the one spa I’ve been to is completely textile free. Unfortunately, we haven’t been since before COVID struck. I miss it. Anyway, this post is from June 25, 2018, and appears as/is.
The featured photo is one I took in Sweden in June 2019, when we stayed at a wonderful hotel before we picked up our Volvo from the factory. That pool jutted out from the building about 23 stories up. I could see through the glass floor the parking lot below. It was not textile-free, as Swedes don’t go in for nudity like the Germans do. But, for obvious reasons, I don’t have any photos of the textile free facilities we’ve frequented.
Yesterday, Bill and I went to the Mineraltherme, which is a spa not far from where we live. The Mineraltherme is not like a day spa. You don’t go there for pedicures, manicures, or facials, although they do offer massages. Basically, it’s a complex that has a bunch of pools of varying temperatures, saunas, steam rooms, and lounges.
I love going to spas, but Bill is not really a fan. He doesn’t like to be seen in his bathing suit. He especially dislikes the “textile free” areas, which require everyone to be nude. I mean, yes, you can wear a robe or a towel when you’re sitting on a lounger. In fact, the staff prefers it that way. But when you’re in the sauna, steam room, or pool, you have to lose your bathing suit. Bill is bashful about going naked, but we both admit that once you do it, it’s no big deal… Or is it?
Yesterday, I wrote about our visit to the spa on my travel blog. That piece was mostly about lunch and how annoyed I was that there were grade school aged kids in the textile free area. I mean, I know it’s Europe and people are freer about their naked bodies here. I guess it just surprises me that people want their kids looking at some of the junk on display down there. And it also surprises me that the people who are hanging out in the spa want rugrats running around while they’re trying to catch some rays.
In yesterday’s post, I mentioned that I saw one guy with a large metal ring hanging off the end of his junk. I saw it even though the guy was trying to conceal the jewelry on his family jewels. Bill and I were sitting at the foot baths, which isn’t far from the turnstile where one enters the textile free area. It’s six euros to come in and that allows you to frolic in the buff to your heart’s content. So we’re sitting there, soaking our feet, wrapped in our bathrobes and enjoying the lingering effects of wine.
A tall man passed by. He had a towel wrapped around his middle, but it didn’t quite cover everything. As he passed, I could see his schlong. I was about to avert my eyes when I noticed a large shiny object at the end of his penis. I could see that it was a thick, heavy, silver colored hoop. It kind of looked like a very wide banded wedding ring. I cringed and wondered if it hurt to wear it as he casually strolled outside. Then I wondered how much it had hurt to have that part of his body pierced.
Then I turned away and noticed three young kids milling around. I was under the impression that people under 18 weren’t allowed in that area, but it turns out they can be there with adults. It suddenly occurred to me that in the United States, people would be having a conniption about kids hanging around adults in the nude. It was just one of those odd cultural moments, I guess. I didn’t see any Germans acting inappropriately, other than the few who were making out in the pool. I did, however, see a few American teens acting inappropriately.
There were three young guys next to us in the pool. They were Americans, two of whom spoke fluent Spanish. At first, I wondered if they were in the Army. They looked like they could be old enough to enlist… just barely. But then I realized that two of them had hair that was too long and one guy was a bit too heavy. The heavy guy was covered in ink and was going around squirting water with his hands like an oyster. He had his hands together, fingers laced, and would close them to force water through. I began to suspect these guys were military dependents. The only other time I’ve ever seen anyone do the “oyster squirt” at a pool is on military installations. The heavy set guy appeared to be the ring leader of the three. He was talking about bringing a date to the textile free area of the Mineraltherme. I kind of wondered what his mother might think about that.
The Mineraltherme is located very close to Panzer Kaserne, which is one of the US military installations in the area. One of the reasons I had kind of hoped Bill wouldn’t want to go to Panzer yesterday is because you never know who you might run into. I don’t think a lot of Americans use the Mineraltherme, but enough do that you might find yourself looking at your husband’s boss’s junk… or that of your stairwell neighbor’s. There are other spas in the area that aren’t so frequented by Americans. However, the Mineraltherme is slightly better for American sensibilities, since there are areas where you wear your bathing suit. Germany does have a lot of spas that aren’t all textile free, but there are some where bathing suits are pretty much outlawed. Americans are kind of leery of that. I’ll admit I was too, at first. But I think I’m probably a natural nudist. I find skinny dipping kind of liberating.
Because I write a somewhat popular blog, I do kind of worry that I might be spotted in the buff by someone who’s read my stuff. It’s happened before. Last year, we went to the annual Weindorf, which is an event held to celebrate the area’s many locally produced wines. Someone came up to me and said, “You’re Jenny, aren’t you?” Sure enough, it was someone who follows my travel blog. It stands to reason that I could be sitting in the textile free area buck naked and someone will come over to ask me about my blog. I guess that’s not such a big deal, except for the naked part. I mean, I know I often bare my soul on my blog, but baring my body might be more than I, or anyone else, can stand. The lovely thing about Germans, though, is that they truly don’t care what you look like under your clothes. If you hang out in certain areas, you’re liable to find out, whether you want to or not. (ETA in 2022: My blog is no longer popular for a lot of reasons. I’m happy about that, in part, because of what I wrote in this paragraph.)
After awhile, I got tired of listening to the English and Spanish yammering of the young lads who were thinking of bringing a date to the Mineraltherme. Bill and I emerged from the pool and went into a sauna. Saunas are a serious thing here. There’s a whole culture and etiquette practiced. We went in and sat down… and Bill forgot to arrange his towel so that his bare feet weren’t on the wooden bench. I noticed a few disapproving glares from Germans and discreetly whispered to him to fix his towel, which he did. I don’t usually like sitting in saunas, but I will admit that it felt good yesterday. Ten minutes later, we emerged from the sauna, I took a quick shower, and then there was this wonderful rush of endorphins that came over me like a comfortable blanket. I smiled. I’m sure it was a beatific smile, though I can’t say for certain it was. That feeling is why I come to the spa… And with that, our visit was done.
Later, I got Bill to use his foot to work some out some of the knots in my lower back. Because I sit on my can a lot, I always have sore back muscles. He doesn’t really like doing that, but he’ll indulge me because although it hurts when he presses, afterwards I get a rush of pleasure. Pressure against sore muscles feels great. I guess it’s because all the crap trapped in the muscle fibers is forced out as blood rushes into the tissue. Someday, I will invest in a massage chair so Bill won’t have to use his feet on my back anymore. And maybe someday we’ll have our own pool, so we can go naked without having to see Prince Albert piercings or listen to teenagers talk about molesting their dates… I can dream, can’t I?
After several days of missed calls from the German lawyer, Bill finally called the “Schade” hotline to explain that he can’t have his cell phone with him when he’s working and to offer a new phone number. He wound up speaking with a lawyer, whose English wasn’t that great. Fortunately, Bill has a colleague who speaks fluent German and Bill speaks a little bit himself.
The attorney explained that he wasn’t calling the insurance company when he called the “Schade” hotline. Instead, it’s a number staffed by lawyers employed by the insurance company. Bill has to call the insurance company, get a “Schadenummer” (claim number), then get in touch with the lawyers again. The one Bill spoke to yesterday, after hearing a brief accounting of our situation, advised him that it is indeed time to go to court.
Actually, I really hope it doesn’t come to that. Neither Bill nor I have any desire to be in the same room with the ex landlady, nor do we want to take the time or spend the money on litigation, especially in a country where we don’t really speak the language. However, we can’t let the ex landlady get away with what she’s trying to do, because what she’s doing is illegal and egregiously so.
The points raised by the lawyer were these:
Ex landlady has to prove that the damages are commensurate with the costs she’s levying on us, mitigated by how old the objects are that were “damaged”. Since the items she’s claimed are mostly very old, my guess is that the items are next to worthless in the eyes of the court, even though they still functioned.
She definitely doesn’t get to charge for the 2015 plumbing bills. The statute of limitations for the plumbing bills expired in December 2018. Moreover, the plumbers didn’t find evidence that we used the toilet in an unconventional way. They found shit and toilet paper, not feminine hygiene products, hair ribbons, or cell phones. That alone accounts for a large portion of what she charged us.
She cannot legally use our money to buy a brand new ventilation hood just because it leans to one side. She cannot use our money to help pay for a new dishwasher simply because the handle is “askew”.
Same with anything else having to do with the awning. She accepted an insurance settlement for that issue and anything having to do with it should be handled by the insurance company. I know why she didn’t want to deal with them again, because she has our money already and the insurance company has a much easier time telling her “no” and/or cheaping out, the same way she did with us.
She’s not allowed to use our money for renovations or “enriching” herself. Kautions can only be used for very specific purposes. In fact, she’s supposed to put the money in a separate, interest bearing account and the interest is also supposed to go to us.
In her latest email to Bill, she claimed that there were “many” damages she didn’t charge us for. However, in her initial list of “damages”, she included a lot of charges for really petty things, like a scratch on the radiator and scratches on the door, not put there by our dogs. Am I to believe that, for some strange reason, she “benevolently” didn’t charge us for the many other damages, yet chose to charge us for things that were beyond the statute of limitations and/or had already been settled by an insurance claim? If she had only charged us for the “legal” things, she would never have come up with 2500 euros in damages. I think she knows that.
I still don’t really care about the money. I just don’t want her to have it. Still, I think we would be willing to settle. If she had taken as much as 1000 euros from us, we wouldn’t have liked it, but we wouldn’t be considering a lawsuit. I’m afraid her greed and inability to be reasonable are going to do her in. Because, what I really want to happen is for her to be put on the “non-referral” list.
Ex landlady should not have the opportunity to do this to other Americans. We’re already at a huge disadvantage, living in a different country, not speaking the language, and having every landlord know how much our housing allowances are and charging that amount. Granted, ex landlady’s house was reasonably priced, but she was quite clearly all about the money. Her house is in the price range that would attract young, enlisted families who neither have the time nor the money to fight for their rights. She needs to find out that not all Americans will stand for this treatment.
She might not have liked me. A lot of people don’t. That doesn’t give her the right to screw Bill out of his money. She wouldn’t tolerate it if she were in his shoes. We left that situation legitimately traumatized by our dealings with her, to the point at which it’s even affected out marriage to a small extent. So she needs to be held accountable.
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