Marrying someone whose parents divorced and re-married means you get two - TWO - sets of in-laws. And when it comes to Mr. Buttcheeks, two *eccentric* sets of in-laws.

I wish I could give you a whole back story on Mr. Buttcheeks' dad (let's call him JimBob, because that's fun), who is an absolute basket case. He loves his son and only wants what is best for him, which is what I have to remind myself when the following interactions happen:

(via email)

Mr. Buttcheeks: Yeah, it's a question of whose career do we follow. If [Cumberbuttcheeks'] career takes off after the next move, do we stay? Or do we pick up and move again when an opportunity comes up for me?

JimBob: Well, women are going to have babies and their career goes anyways. And then you get blamed for everything no matter what you do. So you should look out for #1. That's you. (THIS IS LITERALLY VERBATIM)

Mr. Buttcheeks: ..... wtf Dad.

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Needless to say, the Buttcheeks family is in the middle of a move. We're house hunting and location scouting and all of that ridiculous stuff. In our last move, Mr. Buttcheeks' mom (let's call her Julie - not as much fun as JimBob but it'll do) really took over. I couldn't travel to find a house, so she offered to go. We should have said no. I'm on the phone with Mr. Buttcheeks while he describes an apartment to me:

Mr. Buttcheeks: Yeah, this one's nice. Old, but clean....

Julie: *grabs the phone away* Oh [Cumberbuttcheeks] this place is really nice, you'll just love it, the landlord is great and you should take it so that [Mr. Buttcheeks] can have the rest of the day off and not work so hard looking for a place all by himself.

Me: Uhhhhh.....

We ended up picking that place, but still. Lady, let my fiance and I choose our own home!

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So, during this move she's been driving down the same road again. We looked at a cute house to rent, but it didn't have a bathtub. I like my baths. A lot. I will lay in the tub for two hours with a book. I am one with the tub. Not having a bathtub was not negotiable. So what does she suggest?

That we take the bath-less house and put a goddamn blowup Jacuzzi in the garden so that I can bathe outside LIKE A GODDAMN DOG. "Well it's what I would do!" she sings over the phone, as though she is the one who will have to live in the house.

Now she is texting me about the house hunt, asking me if I like Key Lime Pie (YES I DO BUT YOU WILL NOT WIN ME THAT WAY). I'm ignoring her because I just can't right now. I'm trying to find a home to move into in two weeks, pack up my entire life, find a replacement at my job and reconcile my insanely misogynistic father-in-law with the wonderful, thoughtful person I'm marrying. I don't need any extra crazy in my life.