1: I'm all power-ported up and ready to go. I feel like a sore Iron Man, but I've got my handy Percocets on stand by.
2: Today was vent-cleaning day in the WonderHouse. DH asked MIL to be here while they did their cleaning to make sure they didn't steal our sht, but that's it. They were supposed to be done by the time I got home from the doctor. We left the house at around 12, got home at about 3:45. So we pulled up in front of the house, and the vent cleaners' truck is still here. DH raised an eyebrow and told me to wait in the car while he sees how much longer they'd be. I'm like, *doodly doo whaaaatever*. A few minutes later he came stalking back out of the house, got in the car, and took a lot of big deep breaths. I cracked a smile and was all, "whatchyo mama do now! hahahahaha" (I'm still coming off the sedatives so pardon if this sounds crazy). Here's his rundown:
The vent cleaning company, recommended by SIL, is one farkin guy with a giant vacuum cleaner. Also, MIL had taken it upon herself to reclean a bunch of sht DH just cleaned. She changed sheets that he changed yesterday. She's inexplicably unloaded our dressers and is "reorganizing" or something. All I know is, piles of clothes are in the basement. She was vacuuming when DH brought me upstairs and he yelled TURN THAT OFF! STOP VACUUMING, IN FACT, STOP DOING STUFF ENTIRELY!
Her face was on the floor. He nicely put me in the bed, gave me my 1000 calorie shake, and is now downstairs cussing her the hell out. Hahaha I wish I could hear what he was saying, but it's tough over the vent cleaner guy's giant engine. I'm sure DH will fill me in.
THREE WEEKS LATER (a different post)
Please to recall how DH put MIL in time out after she screwed up the vent-cleaning job. That was about... 3 weeks ago. The aftermath was that MIL wasn't allowed to be in our house w/out DH home as well. She could not be alone or just with me. Ok.
So I got my first round of chemo 2 weeks ago (on Thursday); everything went as well as can be expected. I was whooped for about 3 days, but by Tuesday I was feeling pretty good. My sister took care of me for a couple days, but by Wednesday I was ready to be home alone and take care of myself. I needed to get my ass out of the bed anyway, walk around, feed myself, basically get myself together. DH went to work last Wednesday morning like any other day, and I was feeling independent and ready to tackle my day.
However, some of my muscles weren't quite as ready. My back started seizing up on me; I hadn't done much moving for a good 5 days and now I was trying to jog up and down the stairs like some kind of crazed track star. I got the message and spent the morning stretching and using my heated massage chair. But by about noon I was alright. I got some more food and prepared to settle in to watch a movie in our bedroom.
When suddenly *ding dong* the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone. No one ever just drops by without calling, not even my father, who has a key to the house. I figured it was JWs or something. I peeked out of our bedroom window and [cue dramatic chipmunk music] it was MIL.
Here's me: not fvkcing possible! I actually took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, 'cause I knew I was hallucinating. Nope, she was still there, and she rang the doorbell again. I then froze like a roach in the light and thought, "I'll just pretend like I'm not home." But logic kicked in and said, "Hello, where would you be? Besides, if I don't answer, this broad will think I've keeled over and call the police, fire department and ambulance at the same time." Also I was thinking, "fvkc fvkc fvkcing fvkc fvkc." I had to go let the broad in to prevent neighborhood scandal.
PART TWO
I trudge downstairs and open the door. She's obviously come from work, but she has her laptop, purse and OVERNIGHT BAG on her shoulder. She barrelled her way in talking about, "Oh, so sorry you had to come let me in, DH was supposed to leave the key in the flowerpot for me! It's a beautiful day outside, come for a walk with me!" She huffed her way upstairs to the guest room to change her clothes and settle the fvkc in. I was still standing at the door, frozen in place with shock. Then the paralysis broke and I shuffled my ass up to our room as fast as I could and started dialing all of DH's' phone numbers repeatedly. Of course, he answered none of them. And I felt the rage building in me. What is this btch doing here? WTF is this "key in the pot" sht?? I flopped on the bed just as she burst in (mind you, the door was closed), gathering "laundry" (clothes DH hadn't put away yet, but were clean) and just being a busy, annoying mess. I said I was trying to take a nap, please just leave everything alone, including me.
Do you know this heifer told me I had to just step back and let her help how she sees best? Basically, STFU and let me run this house as I've been dying to do since your Jezebel ass took my golden child away from me. Now, where is the detergent, and why do I have the curtains drawn and I shouldn't use this kind of heating pad, I should use this kind that she has, she'll talk to DH about it when he gets home. And out she went, leaving me opening and closing my mouth like a landbound fish.
At that moment, DH called. "OMG ARE YOU OK IS IT AN EMERGENCY?!?!" I hissed through clenched teeth, "you bet your ass it's an emergency, YOUR MOTHER IS HERE and she seems to think you were going to leave her the key to the house!"
[silence]
"what."
"Yes, your mom is here and she's already on my last good gaadamn nerve. Did you tell her to come over here??"
[more silence]
"Where are you? 'Cause you can't be at home. She's not supposed to be there."
"Well, damn it, she is. But you didn't tell her to come, did you?"
"Hell no! Let me call her cell phone."
So he called her. Of course, she did not answer. He called me back, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why she's there. I can't leave work right now... I don't know what to do!"
I told him it was fine, I'd handle it. As long as he didn't tell her to come, I had no problem with him. I got off the phone and started thinking of how to get out of this mess.
PART THREE
I thought and thought, but I was low on calories. So I decided to venture out of the room to the kitchen and get some food. I walked down my stairs and what did my eyes behold? All of our living room furniture pushed all against the wall. Dining room and kitchen chairs all up on the tables. TV going, dishwasher going, all lights on. And the smell of bleach just smashed into my face like a brick. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and just stared at the chaos that my house had become. I couldn't even go to the kitchen 'cause the fvkcing floors were wet. I WAS STARVING and furious. Heifer was in the basement, fvkcing around with something she had no business being in, I'm sure.
I scampered to the fridge, grabbed a yogurt and ran back up before I barfed from the fumes. I ate my yogurt in teeth-grinding silence. I wanted to cry, scream, and punch the sht out of her. I was prisoner in my own fvkcing house!
And then, as if in answer to a prayer that I hadn't even formulated yet, my dad called. "Hey, I'm getting out of work early, want some company?"
OMGYESPLZCOMESHESHEREHELP!!!
Dad: She... you mean your MIL?
Me: [halfway sobbing] YEESSSSS!
Dad: Holy sht, I'll be there in 20 minutes.
Y'all, I felt like 145 pounds of MIL weight had been lifted. I trotted downstairs to find her, she was in the kitchen, fvkcing around with something else. I said, "Hey, my dad's on his way over to watch me. You can leave now."
She looked at me like I slapped her.
"Oh! Well! I mean... oh. Well, I guess I'll just finish up here and get out of your way!"
"Mmmmkaythx!" I skipped back upstairs.
She continued to bustle and carry the fvkc on; God forbid she leave me alone for 15 fvkcing minutes. By the time my dad came,. she was back in the basement. He asked me where she was and I told him she was downstairs, sulking. We had a silent giggle over it. After about 20 minutes she dragged her ass back up.
She went to the kitchen and asked to talk to me! I was like, btch what? Talk about getting the hell out of my house!
GRANDE FINALE
At this point, my dad was in the bathroom, so he missed the first part of this. Poor, put-upon MIL harrumped into chair in the kitchen. She heaved a great put-upon sigh and said [imagine in a singsongy, annoying, whiney voice], "I hope I didn't offend you before, but really, you and DH need to learn to be more open to letting others help, and maybe getting your attitude right about it. I don't have a lot of money, this is the only way I know how to help,[here's where I tuned her out] blah blah, I've sacrificed, yakkity schmakkity where's my award from Mother of the Year, blah blah, I know best."
By now my dad had come out of the bathroom and was looking perplexed as hell. She saw him and said, "I was just telling your daughter about how important it is for them to be open to letting people do what they do..."
At this, I cut her off. I. Was. Done.
"You know what. We don't have to let you do anything. If you really wanted to help, you would help in the ways we need you to help, not just doing whatever you want to do when you want to do it. You're only making things worse. So how about this: you just stand by until we ask you for something, and then ONLY DO THAT ONE THING! So while I appreciate you coming today, please go. I don't need your kind of help."
My dad was all toothy smile and raised eyebrows. She looked at him like "traitor" and said, "Ok, well fine! I guess I'll go, then!"
Dad: "Do you need help with your stuff? Can I get the door for you? It was nice to see you again."
Her: [angry huff as she stalked out the door with her stuff]
Dad: Have a good one!
She got in her car and sat there for 15 minutes. My dad asked me WTF she was doing. I said she was waiting for me to come running after her, apologizing and offering to let her move in for good. My dad was like, "Who does that?" I told him only crazy people. Eventually she got the hint that I wasn't going to chase her, and she left.
So, I put the btch out. There is an epilogue to this story, but that's essentially it. She hasn't called or come over since.
EPILOGUE
My dad stayed with me until DH came home from work. I asked DH if he'd talked to his mother and he said he hadn't. I said, "well, babe, I had to put her out. I'm sure she's furious, but I don't care." DH was undone, he was all, "I'm so sorry you had to put up with that, wtf is wrong with her, so on and so forth." He was upset that she'd stressed me out like that.
But MIL made a huge miscalculation. In addition to annoying the fvkc out of me, she also....
[wait for it]
...picked all of DH's tomatoes. DH grows his own tomatoes; he's very proud of them, and uses them in lots of recipes. One of his great joys is harvesting his crop. But that day, MIL decided that picking tomatoes was too stressful for him, so she cleaned out all the vines and left the tomatoes in the kitchen in a bowl. They were not ripe yet.
Y'all. DH went to the kitchen, saw the bowl of tomatoes and that was it. WHO THE FVKC PICKED MY TOMATOES!!! I didn't even answer; he knew who did it. I sat quietly in the dining room and let him take it all in.
He was three times undone. He snatched up the phone, and the rant he went on was legendary. I actually felt bad for her for a minute... nah, not really, but it was bad. I guess the tomatoes were the last straw. That was over a week ago, and we haven't heard a peep from her since.
POST SCRIPT
Apparently during a pause in the DH rant, MIL expressed surprise that I had "that much energy". Btch was counting on me being too sickly/ tired/ pitiful to regulate in my own damn house. DH found this hilarious; he told her as long as I could put two words together with any measure of stank tone, I'd have no trouble handling my business.
So, that's it. I told DH next time she pops up ('cause I know she will), I'll open the window, show her I'm alive/ok, and then tell her to hit the damn bricks. He was fine with that.