Damn, I love Friday mornings. And as Friday mornings go, this one has been the BEST. Let's recap, shall we? And then you can all be jealous of my fabulous and wonderful life:
--got druuuuunk last night and woke with no hangover
--woke up REALLY early and had great morning sex
--went for a run in the light drizzly rain conditions with hubs and dog
--getting more ink work done today
--eating delicious Indian food for lunch
--yerba mate for breakfast
I feel fabtastic, but that could be because the last two weeks have been weeks from work hell—not that it has been bad, just that it has been crushingly busy—and last night was the end of my big push. Now it's all light lifting from here until my Thanksgiving holiday. Man, I really need to catch everyone up, don't I? I love being so self-important and gleeful about it.
Ok, so last weekend, hubs and I decided to go to the beach. We are tight on cash, and his mom lives in Charleston SC, so we called her up to see if we could crash. We could, so we went and took the dog. She (the dog) is Awesome Dog. She is uber smart, and really sweet, and everyone loves her. Except, apparently, my mother-in-law. And so it begins.
Let me just preface this story with the fact that not only have I never had a problem with M-I-L, I truly like her. But the three long days we spent with at her house pushed me past my limit for fake niceties and overall patience. In fact, she was a totally different person.
Ok, so, hubs double-checked to see if we can bring Awesome Dog, and yes we can, even though they have three highly aggressive cats. (Well, two aggressive cats and one sweet shy one that gets bullied by the other two, poor kit.) But the cats have been pissing all over M-I-L's couch, so they have been staying outside anyway. No big deal, right?
Awesome Dog was, in fact, awesome all weekend. She was really good in the house, went for long, easy walks, played ball in the yard, and not once did she try to even sniff any of the cats (that were, of course, outside). But you would never have known this if you were speaking with M-I-L. If I heard the phrase "terrorizing the poor cats" ONE MORE FUCKING TIME, I was going to lose it. Luckily, hubs saw me reach my limit and told her to shut it, so that I wouldn't have to be the bad guy to my M-I-L. Who is really nice, but can also be really fake nice. You know those people? They say rude things with a smile on their face like it's a joke, but it's not really a joke and they just don't have the balls to say it directly without some sort of flowery way of putting it so they don't have to seem like a jerk? Yep, that kind of fake nice. It drives me mad.
So many things became clear to me over the weekend. Hubs and I have been in the midst of marriage issues, and boy did I see where he shit comes from!! Hint: HIS MOTHER. I don't know if I should really talk about this right now, since we are just starting therapy next week, so maybe I'll save it. Or maybe I just won't talk about it, since it is our private business. But let it be known: my husband's mother limited his ability to deal with negative situations or conflicts. This is so different from my family and how I was raised. Not that one way is right, but it's just different. I mean, my family is a "talk it out, hug it out" kind of family, which I happen to think is pretty healthy. His is a "never be visibly upset, hide it under the rug" type family, and it grates. on. my. last. nerve. especially. with. his. mother.
Arg. Ok, moving on. Not only do we hear bullshit all weekend about Awesome Dog "terrorizing" the cats, but M-I-L is on a restricted diet. She is not eating sugar of any kind, no wheat, and no dairy. Which is great with me, if she wants to do that. But you want to know what one of my biggest peeves is? Others forcing you to comply with their restrictions. Restrictions they have CHOSEN, not that she's allergic to wheat or dairy, you know? And the biggest rub: when we got to town, she had no food so WE had to go to the grocery store and buy HER special foods so WE could cook her nasty-ass meals. Let me tell you, it was pretty gross (aside from the coconut rice dish we made on Friday night because I couldn't stand it).
I mean, who does that?? Who makes you buy their special groceries to cook their special fucking meals for them? SHE IS HIS MOTHER, for godsakes!! SHE should be the one buying the goddamn groceries. She is by no means broke. So there went the other side of my head, bald from ripping my damn hair out.
On top of it, hubs and I had a horrible fight while we are there. (We then proceeded to have amazing sex--goes with the territory). I hate being at someone else's home and fighting. That really stinks.
Oh yeah, because she expected us to be available to her 24-7, we got to go to the beach for ONE WHOLE HOUR!
Anyway, that's the long story behind why we are taking a beach trip at Thanksgiving. Because that vacation turned out to be hell. But on the bright side, hubs started seeing where all his shit stems from, because M-I-L made it really effin obvious. Thanks M-I-L!! you bitch.