More bitchin'

Sadly, I wish I meant that as a nod towards something really cool; like my bike is 'more bitchin'' than yours, but unfortunately that is not the case.  Truly, it is just me whining.  My MIL has really begun to wear out her welcome.  And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that can be done about it.  Her voice drives me nuts.  The smell of her peony perfume makes me gag.  The sight of Sonic cups make me want to hurl them against the wall, and watch the watered-down Dr. Pepper pour down the wall.  When I back my car out, I glance in the rearview mirror and consider throwing it in reverse and slamming on the gas until I roll over it; knowing that my Cobalt will never make over her Honda, but I don't think that would stop me from trying.  
It's not her fault.  OK, maybe it is a little. But I can't really blame her.  She is battling Cancer.  When my husband was three, his dad decided he wanted a change.  He left.  Told her lots of horrible things that husbands say when there's nothing else to say.  I don't think she ever got over it.  She claims to have been the best stay at home mom, wonderful house keeper and cook.  But when he left her for another woman, she quit.  Maybe not immediately, but eventually, she gave up.  And now, twenty-five years later, she lives in my spare bed room.
Having her is like living with a grown up child.  She doesn't bathe regularly.  She refuses to eat anything I put in front of her, choosing instead to live on Whoppers, Dr. Pepper, and what ever other random snack food she requires us to buy for her each week.  She also demands food that is good for you, but she never actually eats it, just lets it sit in the fridge until it rots and I get pissed and throw it away.  She yells at us from her bedroom wanting us to do something – anything, and if we don't answer, she calls my husband on his cell phone.  
Today, Memorial day, the coveted three day weekend that most people look forward to, was just torture for me.  Another day at home with her.  I left and walked around the block in 90 degree weather, just to calm down.  And what did she do, nothing really, just asked my husband to get her an oil change.  I know, you think I'm an evil bitch.  But what do you do when the other woman in your husband's life is his mom?  I want my husband back.  He wants to be back too.  But he can't.  We are stuck in this purgatory for who knows how long.  Until she musters the energy to finally kick the Cancer out of her body, or well, you know.  Sadly, she's closer to the second option.  
I don't know what to do.  I have no idea what she is really capable of doing, and what she makes us do for her because it makes her feel good.  Sometimes, I feel like she is trying to punish us because we don't have Cancer, and she does.  In-laws have a tendency to try to wedge their way in, have their opinions heard.  But we are working on building a new house.  We met to have our floor plans drawn up last week.  My house, my husbands house, our house.  And yet, we have to build our dream house with her in mind.  And that makes me resent her.  Again, not her fault, but she has several needs, and we have to consider them.  But, I don't want to.  Call me selfish, but it's MY house.  I hate that she even THINKS that she has a right to dictate how I build my house.  And sadly, we have created some sort of situation where she thinks that not only does she have a right to have input, but that we will also do everything she wants.  We want concrete floors.  She points out that they are cold, slippery, blah, blah, blah.  She actually made requests about our new fridge.  This is my life, and because of her, it's been on hold since February of 2007, she moved in shortly after – a week before our two year anniversary.  And who knows how much longer it will last.  I don't know how much longer I will last.

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