How to Buy a Stranger a House in Two Weeks (A Guide by Grandma Susan) - Humor Column

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There is a universal law of nature that dictates what a grandmother is supposed to be. A grandmother is supposed to bake cookies, smell faintly of peppermint, and sneak twenty-dollar bills into your pocket while whispering that your parents are too strict.

Caleb’s grandmother, Susan, missed this memo. Susan is 67 years old, but she operates under the firm delusion that she is a 24-year-old cast member on a Bravo reality show.

Let us start with the makeup. Susan will not leave the house without a full, theatrical face of cosmetics. I am not talking about a quick swipe of lipstick. I mean a layer of foundation so structurally dense that it requires a trowel, a curing period, and a municipal zoning permit. If a meteor strikes the earth tomorrow, the only things to survive will be cockroaches and Susan’s contouring.

But the real comedy comes from Susan's deeply held, unwavering conviction that Caleb’s mother, Ashley, and I are raging drug addicts.

Just to set the record straight: we are sober. My wildest, most dangerous vice at this stage of my life is staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m., mentally negotiating with my lower back to see if it will allow me to stand up in the morning. I drive a steadily declining 2013 Dodge Dart and get excited about finding bacon on sale. I am the human equivalent of beige wallpaper.

Meanwhile, Susan—the beacon of morality—is out at the bars. Every. Single. Night. She absorbs enough daily gin to effectively sanitize an operating room, yet she looks at me like I’m fresh off an episode of Cops.

Then there is the romantic situation. Susan currently has four boyfriends. Four. At 67 years old, she has a more aggressive and complicated dating roster than a collegiate athlete. Managing four relationships requires a level of logistical planning and stamina that I cannot even fathom. If someone asks me to attend two social events in the same month, I have to go lie down.

One of these boyfriends currently lives in her house. He works for the government, which sounds respectable until you actually meet him and realize he is a loser of such majestic, breath-taking proportions that scientists should study him. He is essentially a decorative couch pillow that occasionally asks for beer money.

But the undisputed masterpiece of Susan’s decision-making process happened a few years ago. She met a guy. They dated for exactly two weeks.

At the two-week mark in a relationship, normal people are still debating whether it’s safe to chew with their mouth open or use the bathroom in the same time zone as their new partner.

Susan? Susan bought him a $300,000 house in Maryland.

Two weeks. Three hundred grand. I have pairs of socks I’ve known longer than that, and I wouldn't even buy them a moderately priced sandwich.

So the next time Susan glares at me through three inches of mascara, silently judging my life choices, I just have to smile, nod, and pray that Caleb inherits my metabolism and absolutely none of her financial instincts.

#NokomisFL #NokomisBeach #NokomisLife #Nokomis #FrederickMD #FrederickCountyMD

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