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Two phone calls later, I adhere to my Detachment Parenting playbook, while suffering.


My son called this morning elated because the police will soon shut down the place where he had been staying; he said all of the people there will be thrown out.  He had returned there for his things and had been refused entry by a man, a sex offender, that lives there *Great. He crowed in glee with the opportunity to avenge being "fxxxed in the axx."  *Sorry.


That he can even imagine this degree of degradation and victimization appalls me; that he describes himself in these terms is appalling.


He mentioned that he had identified a new living situation, paying a couple $150 a month to crash on the couch with the need to leave at 6 am and return at 6 pm, "like a shelter, Mom."


I tried to stay noncommittal, saying, "do you think that is a fair price in that you will be gone all day? Think about if it will meet your needs."


Second phone call two hours later: "Mom, I need to come over and take a shower. I don't want to use the bathroom here because it is inside the couple's room."


Me:  "Have you paid them already?  You need to consider if this situation is meeting your needs.  If you sleep there but need to use the bathroom and shower here, that sounds like you propose to live half time there and half time here.  That is not an option."


Son: "If you just want to say no, say no!"


Me:  " 'No'.  Goodbye."  And I hang up.


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