What passes for the mothership-in-law will be staying with us this evening. Here are some ways in which this promises to not be fun:
- She self-diagnosed her sinus infection as a mini-stroke
- Incessant demands for all and sundry to “feel my forehead. Isn’t it hot?”
- Requests to “just hold my hand” made almost as frequently
- Reportedly her attempt at a bath this afternoon lasted for approximately 120 seconds
This added to the fun of having to clean the house top to bottom, rearrange said house to accommodate a sit down meal for a baker’s dozen, and plan and shop for an elaborate meal in anticipation of hosting the first joint family holiday celebration. Elz recently recovered from a bout with pneumonia and is now nursing someone with a raging sinus infection and getting increasingly run down from it all. Thereby opening herself to further ailments and possible hospitalization.
I’ll save further editorializing for off-list conversations. I will say that I’ve spent nearly an hour on the phone with Elz here at work calming her down.
Why do people insist that holidays are fun?
