Sometime between going to bed last night and getting up this morning, I finished with the visit of my in-laws. Mentally, I am done. We are less than halfway through their four week visit, and I already feel like a prisoner in my own house. Not a prisoner that has to stay in while others go out and have fun, but one that is trapped in the house with her jailers. The jailers have taken over the management of the kitchen, the house, and the husband. The prisoner is hiding in whatever corner she can find where no one will notice her.
Part of the problem here is that his parents don't act the way I am used to guests acting. They don't want to go on outings to museums, gardens, galleries, or shopping malls. They don't seem to want to "do" anything. They take walks every day, they cook German food, and...that's about it. Thomas' father works in the yard and his mother works on her tan. Paul asked Thomas if there was anything they could help him do for the house, and he suggested they help him clean out and paint the basement. Now there are complaints about that, not about doing it, but because he isn't organizing it they way Paul would.
Nothing we do is right. If there is nothing to do, Paul is bored and cranky. If we have a project, he is impatient and cranky. Common denominator = cranky.
Excuse me while I go and drink myself into a coma.
