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I dreamed that my MiL decided to go through and clear out my books and that I came on to find a “bookseller’s cart” outside the house but the owner gone off somewhere, and my bookshelves half empty. I spent the rest of the dream frantically going through and trying to retrieve all my books, some of them irreplaceable, valuable, and having great sentimental value, and trying to explain why it’s totally unacceptable to just take someone else’s books and dispose of them. That it’s theft, and that no my mom would never do something like that.

Of course this all never happened and it was just a shitty dream, but I’m livid. It doesn’t help that it’s not too far off from MiL’s real personality to do something like that, and that she did tell me and me lurker when we moved  in together that we should get rid of our books instead of buying book shelves. (Mind, I was still completing a PhD in LITERATURE when she said that, and I’d also been painstakingly and methodically bringing my books over from my mom’s house in suitcases every visit home.)

But she hasn’t actually done anything and I’m still mad at her thanks to the emotional residue of the damn dream. And I won’t be able to avoid her this weekend. Aaaargh!

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