It seems as though, the longer we continue living in MIL’s basement, the more hostile I’m becoming.
She doesn’t seem to grocery shop for herself anymore, except for her beer and cigarettes. I had bought a turkey ham and intended to slice it up and marinate it for a nice little dinner. Well, she cooked it, with cloves and some such, and it didn’t taste very good. I had also bought some of what we’d need for Tacos, but we hadn’t gotten the lettuce. She made the tacos, and all we could put on was meat and cheese. I had bought some Velveeta and Rotel (both generic) and intended to make my meet and cheese dip in the crock pot. Last night she made a small amount of Velveeta with Salsa. I buy coffee, and if she makes it it doesn’t turn out good, despite the fact she uses the same measuring cup we do.
She talks as though she wants our cats to have the freedom of the house, but she continuously closes the door at the top of the stairs. There’s a stone cat that’s SUPPOSED to hold that door open, but she keeps moving it and latching the door. That results in our cats usually getting trapped upstairs, without access to their food, water, or litter boxes.
Yesterday, when I got home from work, it felt ice cold downstairs, and I checked the temperature on Annie’s cage. It was 59 degrees. I checked the thermostat upstairs, she had lowered it 5 degrees. Apparently she doesn’t realize she’s going to kill our hamster if she doesn’t leave the thermostat alone! And if our hamster dies, I will no longer hold back on her. I will go off on her like I’ve never gone off on anybody before in my life. It’s fucking ridiculous that she’s that careless. She had even said we could put Annie’s cage upstairs. If we did that, her drunken self would set Annie free and we’d never see her again. “Oh there’s nowhere she could get stuck or hurt.” Yeah, right. She may not be the smallest creature, but the rodent family is known for sneaking in small spaces. She could theoretically find her way outside and freeze to death in minutes. I’m not taking my chances.
I’m way beyond fed up over all this, and I’m ready to be out of here before I snap. I’m becoming more and more hostile, all internally, but it’s starting to create health problems. I’m not hostile to others at work or home, but the hostility in my own mind is excruciating.
The last two nights, the turkey ham night and the Velveeta salsa night, Dave noticed the look on my face and tried to figure out why I looked so hostile. I wouldn’t tell him because we were upstairs and she was within earshot.
This has got to end. We have got to move out.
We’ve made an offer on a house, but it was countered. We are going to counter their counter and hope we get it. If we don’t, I’m going to suggest we move into an apartment. We both need to get out of here. He’s sick of living here, and so am I. We’ve got to get out, one way or another, before we both snap.
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