Moving and inlaws
Written at 12:36 p.m. on 2007-06-25
Moving and inlaws
Well we have finally moved. actually we moved a week or so ago but I haven�t had internet access for more than 4 minutes at a time since then . All went well apart form me getting a bit fraught and spending half the moving day in tears because someone else was moving into my old house which had all the things I�d picked in it and I didn�t like the tiles in the bathroom of the new house, sometimes I can be a complete pillock. You know when you can see yourself and you�re thinking �Blimey, you�re being a complete arse� but yet you can�t help it and you carry on? Well that was me.
I�m a lot happier now though because I�ve put up pictures, put my plants in the garden and painted the downstairs loo and living room so it�s feeling more like my house and less like a stranger�s house.
Well at least I was happier until yesterday. Then the in laws arrived, for a week. Thankfully they are staying at my parent�s house because my parents are in Peru until Friday. If they were staying at mine I�d have to move out. I was sat in my parent�s house, waiting for them to arrive, calmly reading a book and enjoyinh the peace, the door opens and suddenly it�s a like a full scale tornado has blown in, there�s bags everywhere, there�s bottles of wine, enough clothes for a 7 week trip, shouting, stressing, flustering. The dog headed straight for the garden and retreated into the greenhouse to wait for it to stop and I was more than tempted to join him.
So, after a coupld of hours of faffing and blustering Rob decides to make dinner, an event which brings with it more chaos and criticism of my dad�s kitchen equipment. Why would my dad have a huge pasta pan? My mum doesn�t eat pasta do he never cooks it. He �manages to survive without a pasta pan� for the same reason he manages to survive without an anvil, he just doesn�t need one. In the meantime his mother is kicking up in the other room because she can�t find something or other, the dog is STILL in the greenhouse. Eventually we get to dinner, Micah�s cousin and his wife arrive bearing flowers and sympathetic glances for me. It�s going ok until we realise that once again Micah�s stepdad has put parmesan cheese in everything. He does this every time, I�m sure it�s some sort of test. �It�s just a little bit, you�ll never know it�s there�. I don�t give a flying fornication how much it is, I don�t bloody well eat it, I tell him that every time I meet him and he never takes any notice, besides which I will know it�s there because he�s just sodding well told me it is. ARGHH!!! This is closely followed by a drunken kick off from Micah�s mum who is insisting that we didn�t drink the bottle of Wolfblass 3 hours ago because it was expensive and she was saving. An argument resolved when I fished the damn bottle out of the bin to put it in the recycling box. Well, not really resolved because she carried on shouting and whining until Micah said he�d but her another one. This was about the same time he drunkenly invited them to stay at our house for a few nights. Sharon took one look at my face and fled to the garden to join the dog so no one would see her giggling. That was one evening, I have a whole WEEK of this happy horseshit. God help me, I�m going to have some sort of breakdown.
