Everyone, if you don't see me around after the next few days, it's because I've either thrown myself from the top of the Chrysler building or I've committed cold-blooded homicide.
After my husband and I drove down from NYC to NC this Thanksgiving, my mother-in-law got a brilliant idea. "Why don't I ride back up in the car with you and visit with you for a while?"
Just what everyone wants. Twelve hours in a car with their mother-in-law.
And now, she's here. The problem? We live in a 500-square-foot railroad-style apartment. My living room is barely six feet wide, and my bedroom is a little alcove off from my living room that's exactly the size of a queen mattress, with no door. So, as long as she's staying with us, my living room will be completely filled with an inflatable guest bed. It only dawned on my husband this morning that he'll be getting zero nooky while she's here - not out of spite, but because she'll never be further than three feet away from us when we're sleeping.
She's brought a suitcase large enough to fit two obese great Danes comfortably (obese Great Danes not included, luckily) - this suitcase alone takes up almost 1/10th of the walkable floor space.
The best part? The original plan was that we'd book a one-way train ticket to take her back to NC on Thursday. Her new plan, which she revealed to us as we were driving up, is she'll "stay until she can't think of anything else to do" at which point she'll have my FIL drive from NC to NYC to pick her up and drive her back. When will this be? "Oh, whenever he feels like it, I guess." She refused any suggestions of alternate travel arrangements, because making my FIL drive 24 hours round-trip is somehow the best possible option.
So...she'll be with us any time between one day and 2 years. Or until I STRANGLE HER IN HER SLEEP.
I've never really gotten along with my MIL. She's just....difficult. She thinks politeness isn't "keeping it real," and keeping it real is apparently the most valuable quality in the entire universe. I'm more of a polite, WASP-y type, and the realest I keep it is a pointed look and a muffled cough.
The last time she visited, she verbally berated my husband for refusing to help her buy heroin (as if we'd even know where to begin), and then she locked herself in our bathroom for an hour. Then she stormed out in the middle of the night and just...didn't come back. We didn't know if she was alive or dead (she was fine, she'd just decided to drive herself back to NC from NYC because we were being so mean to her by not calling drug dealers at 11pm). It was horrible. She's cleaned up now, which is pretty awesome, and I'm proud of her. But...are we now just supposed to pretend that didn't happen?
I know my husband wants to have a better relationship with his mom, so I want to be supportive. But OMG, people. Strap me in, because this is going to be a bumpy ride.