Ok, so the in-laws are in town. It's been nearly two years since they visited. It's a happy time, but as anyone who has in-laws knows even the best in-laws can drive you nuts.
My father in law is as jolly as can be. And every other word out of his mouth is the GD curse. That one goes through me like a knife. At least once per day, I hold myself back from saying something like, "Really, I don't think God will actually damn the doorknob (or whatever else he is referring to)." He says it like punctuation. Like he doesn't even realize he is saying it. Other than that, Pops is a great fellow. He's great fun to have around, and he and hubby are working like mad on this house doing things that are a bit too hefty for me to help out with.
My mother in law, bless her heart, is always fairly quiet and borderline sad all the time. Even when she is happy, I swear she is blue. To say that she is fragile would be an understatement. Today, they had to leave for their motel early because there was a bumblebee outside and she was afraid that it would get into the house. I swear. I cooked a big dinner night before last, and I was left with a mountain of dishes while everyone retreated to the living room. This morning, she said that she was sorry for not helping in the kitchen the night before, but Dawn dish detergent irritates her hands. (I was thinking that picking up a dish towel to dry them and put them away wouldn't have hurt, but I kept my mouth shut.)
She makes a sandwich in the kitchen and leaves with crumbs everywhere for me to clean up and then tells me that black granite counters are bad because they are hard to clean. I was outside painting the front porch yesterday, and there was one slat of siding that I hadn't painted yet. So she said, "Are you going to leave that one unpainted?" She tells me that our new floor is pretty, but she would never have black floors in a kitchen. We're standing at the deli counter and I was buying lunch meat, and she said, "I won't eat that roast beef. Are you kidding?! BLEGH! UGH! YUCK! I wouldn't put that in my mouth!" When she saw that I was annoyed, she patted my arm and said, "That's ok. Pops will eat it, honey."
I'm ranting, I know. But I feel this pick.pick.pick thing all day long while they are here. Someone feel like helping me survive the next seven days?
My father in law is as jolly as can be. And every other word out of his mouth is the GD curse. That one goes through me like a knife. At least once per day, I hold myself back from saying something like, "Really, I don't think God will actually damn the doorknob (or whatever else he is referring to)." He says it like punctuation. Like he doesn't even realize he is saying it. Other than that, Pops is a great fellow. He's great fun to have around, and he and hubby are working like mad on this house doing things that are a bit too hefty for me to help out with.
My mother in law, bless her heart, is always fairly quiet and borderline sad all the time. Even when she is happy, I swear she is blue. To say that she is fragile would be an understatement. Today, they had to leave for their motel early because there was a bumblebee outside and she was afraid that it would get into the house. I swear. I cooked a big dinner night before last, and I was left with a mountain of dishes while everyone retreated to the living room. This morning, she said that she was sorry for not helping in the kitchen the night before, but Dawn dish detergent irritates her hands. (I was thinking that picking up a dish towel to dry them and put them away wouldn't have hurt, but I kept my mouth shut.)
She makes a sandwich in the kitchen and leaves with crumbs everywhere for me to clean up and then tells me that black granite counters are bad because they are hard to clean. I was outside painting the front porch yesterday, and there was one slat of siding that I hadn't painted yet. So she said, "Are you going to leave that one unpainted?" She tells me that our new floor is pretty, but she would never have black floors in a kitchen. We're standing at the deli counter and I was buying lunch meat, and she said, "I won't eat that roast beef. Are you kidding?! BLEGH! UGH! YUCK! I wouldn't put that in my mouth!" When she saw that I was annoyed, she patted my arm and said, "That's ok. Pops will eat it, honey."
I'm ranting, I know. But I feel this pick.pick.pick thing all day long while they are here. Someone feel like helping me survive the next seven days?
