Duff and weekend and oh, brother

I took this picture of McDuff Saturday afternoon. He's so stinking adorable that I almost can't stand it.

My weekend was pretty good. J had to work all day Saturday, so I was at home by myself, playing the Sims and cleaning a little bit. It was nice, but quiet. Well, as quiet as a house with four dogs in it can be.

Sunday J was off, thank goodness, and we had a good day. We hung out, we cleaned up most of the stuff in the other side of his room, so that he can finally take possession of it, paint it and start moving his stuff in. We watched some TV. It was very low key, but it was just really nice to be together, just spending time. We live together, and yet we don't get nearly enough time to just hang out and be together. It's nice when we get it, though.

I also had a little bit of a worry this weekend. Well, not a worry, just a general dread. My sister called me Friday afternoon while J and I were out getting dinner and groceries. My brother - the one with a drinking problem who has made himself such a problem to his family that none of us really want him around anymore - called her at ten minutes to six that morning (what the heck he was thinking, I have no clue - why would he call that early?) to let her know that he was moving back to New York. He had broken up with his girlfriend again, and he had to get away from her. So apparently he has to go a few states away. I stopped trying to figure him out a long time ago. Anyway, she called to warn me that he might show up on my doorstep. Historically, I've always been the one that he comes to for a place to stay or for sympathy. So I kept watch all day Saturday, but he didn't show up. And we didn't see him Sunday morning, either. And then that afternoon, the phone rang. I didn't pick it up, just in case it was him, and it was. He had "something to ask me." So naturally I assumed that he was going to ask to stay with me, but thankfully I was wrong. I waited a half an hour or so to gather up my courage to say no, and then I called him back. He told me the same thing about his ex, and that he was coming back north. And he wanted to ask me...and I started to get all stressed at having to say no, you can't stay with me...if he could store his TV, toolbox and a couple of boxes here.

Um, what? That's it? Yup. Apparently, he's going back into rehab, because he had been sober for three years, but since the problems with his ex, he started drinking again. Personally, I think that this is all an excuse to live on the government's dime for a while until he finds someone else to take care of him, but who knows. So he's going to drive north after he gets his last paycheck. He's going to bring his stuff to my house and store it in my basement, where it won't be in my and J's way. He'll hang out and visit for a little while, and then he's going to go stay in a motel until the next morning, when he's going to drive himself back to rehab.

And of course I'm like, um, sure you can store your stuff, I guess. As long as it's his stuff and not him, I'm okay with that. I'm just glad I didn't let myself get too stressed about it. Stupid brothers. I always told Mom that she should only have had me and my sister. Boys are just trouble.

And okay, I guess that's all for now. I need to go clean out a filing cabinet now.